Opportunities for Leisure
by vault of glass
Summary: River's insatiable, and MacCready's twenty-two. Various sexual shenanigans ensue. (Kinkmeme one-shots with occasional fluff thrown in, added as I finish them)
1. Opportunities for Leisure

MacCready didn't like the Commonwealth any more than he liked the Capital Wasteland, but at least the former had been _home_. And if it were anyone else who asked for his help, he would've left a long time ago. But it was River, the pre-war pin-up who had stolen his heart, and even if he didn't owe her everything after what she'd done for him, he still would've followed her to the ends of the earth.

He didn't care where she went, as long as they'd be together. Even if it was Vault 81 for the fifth time that week to work on their faulty reactor _again_. He suspected the overseer was one of the many souls unlucky in love with their beloved sole survivor, and kept calling her back to spend more time with her. He couldn't really blame her - in her place, he would've done the same thing - but it didn't mean he had to like it.

"Stop scowling," River scolded him, amusement edging her voice. "I know this isn't exactly the adventure I promised, but. . . ."

"You go where you're needed," he said with a shrug. "It's one of the things I love about you."

It was easy to see the lovely flush that dusted her pale cheeks under the over-bright fluorescents. She greeted a vault officer as they passed, taming her expression into the polite, passive mask she adopted when she had to be diplomatic when she really wanted to be catty, and the former was truly a sight to see. He was the only one of her companions insolent enough to talk back to the general of the minutemen; as in, he spoke to her like a friend, not a legend, and though it had often resulted in lots of bickering and arguments, it also tempered a strangely immediate connection. As they got to know each other better, they realized they were similar in too many ways, carried the same ghosts, as it were, and it was the first time either of them had found someone new to put their faith in. Such revelations formed powerful bonds, and she'd ignited in him a flame so ravenous and compelling that he still dreamt of her every night when he slept.

The elevator doors closed behind them and River let out a breath of relief as it slowly started to move. In the dim lighting, he could only just make out the shape of her eyes looking up at him as she pulled him to her by the collar. He caught himself with hands planted on either side of her slim waist, her mouth hungrily claiming his. She swallowed the low rumble of his laughter, nibbled at his bottom lip and she had his full and complete attention.

"Jesus, Riv," he muttered when her mouth hunted down the line of his jaw, seeking the pulse point at the base of his throat. She tasted the skin there, tested it with the blunt edge of her teeth, and shuddered between his arms.

"Sorry," she breathed into the curve of his shoulder, sighing in pleasure when he ran his fingers through the silver strands of her hair. "We just never get any privacy like this."

"No complaints here," he assured her with a masculine heat in his voice that made her melt.

"Let's just finish up this reactor business, and then we'll spend all night in my room," she promised him, low and throaty. She was right, like always, no matter how hard she made him. So he kissed her one last time, rough with desire, and she moaned softly, his favorite sound.

MacCready released all of her but her hand, at least for the rest of the descent. They hadn't ever agreed to keep their relationship discreet, but for now they enjoyed the intimacy of something secret, just for them. It was honestly a shock Piper hadn't sniffed them out by now.

River pressed a hand to her lips, swollen from his kisses. He wanted to shove her up against the wall and take her right here, come deep inside her as the doors opened so all of this godforsaken vault could see them - a reckless fantasy, selfish and possessive, one that did little to alleviate the throbbing length of his cock, straining almost painfully inside of his pants.

It was better to wait, if he could better enjoy her later. Take his time, savor her, please her, make her scream and shudder beneath his hands and mouth. He just had to be patient, admittedly not a strong point of his, but for her, he would do his best.

And then the elevator came to a grinding stop, lights flickering out, and through the darkness they could both hear the fading rumble of power systems shutting down. River's hand clutched at him tighter, and he tightened his fingers reassuringly around hers.

"It's the damn reactor," she hissed. "It must've gone out again."

"Does that mean we're stuck?"

"Oh, God. . . ." Her voice trailed off, fragile and hollow, and he pulled her back into his arms almost instinctively.

"I'm sure they're already workin' on it," he told her steadily. "It never goes out for long."

"I guess," she allowed quietly.

"Besides, this is probably the safest you've been since you walked out of one-eleven."

She snorted, clearly not wanting to let him comfort her, but he knew her well enough to manage it anyways. Now that his eyes had adjusted, he could see the troubled crease between her delicate brows, her disapproving frown, and he soothed it from her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

"Nothing's gonna happen to you while I'm here."

She buried her face in his shoulder, and he felt the warm curl of her breath through his sleeve. "Thank you," she breathed. "You're right."

"'Course I'm right."

She tried to muffle her laughter in his coat, but he heard it anyways. "God, how long do you think we'll be down here?"

"Considering these idiots can't keep their reactor running for even a week. . . ."

"Christ."

"You're tellin' me. And now you got me all worked up. I can't wait all night to have you."

"Oh?" The sound was short, but heated and curious and so damn naughty. "Tell me."

"You drive me crazy," he confessed immediately, heavy with fervor, because he could keep nothing from her. She gasped when he sank his teeth into the sensitive curve of her throat. "I can't stop thinking about you."

"Mmmn." She was moving against him, shifting her weight, and he realized she was rubbing her legs together for friction. He steadied her hips with his hands, keeping her still despite the groan that wrenched from her throat.

"I can't stand it when you leave me behind," he told her roughly, and the selfish nature of his admission made it feel all the more sinful. "I hate watching you leave with anyone else."

Finally he caught her mouth again, and he kissed her with teeth and tongue, too ravenous for finesse or subtlety. He was already pulling down the zipper of her vault suit, exposing the silky porcelain of her skin, worshipping each inch of her he freed with his hands.

"I'm all yours," she whispered under his kiss and he groaned, taking what she offered, filling his hands with the curves he would worship until the day he died. His mouth trailed down over her collarbone to the valley between her breasts, where his lips met the cotton of a tattered, ancient bra. He caught it between his teeth and yanked it impatiently out of the way, freeing the rosy peaks of her nipples. His tongue curled around one, then the other, sweet friction too brief that made her whine. She ran her fingers absently through his hair, nails scraping his scalp and sending chills down his spine.

"RJ," she breathed, and he loved to hear her say his name, especially when it came out between her swollen lips like an oath, like a prayer. She pushed his duster from his shoulders, urging him out of his clothes. Her fingers admired lean, sinewy muscle, hard beneath her touch.

MacCready couldn't boast the most seasoned of sexual histories, something he made up for in appetite, and he was grateful River was always so blessedly reactive, like part of her was still frozen and only the heat of his touch could thaw her out. She melted like wax beneath the scrape of his teeth, each heated kiss, his fingers trailing down her stomach toward the junction of her thighs.

"Please," she whispered, soft as smoke, voicing the lunacy that danced like sparks in her eyes, the way her hands clutched at his shirt, trying to pull him even closer. Through the various layers of their clothing, he could still feel the heat of her against his thigh. He wished they could stay here forever, locked away from the rest of the world, its evils and greed, sorrows and tragedies that meant nothing when it was just the two of them, her sweet voice released in lilting moans like beats of his pulse.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised her, and she shivered in reaction to the husk of his voice. His hands eased her jumpsuit down her shoulders and arms, until the top half hung from her hips. She worked clumsily at the buttons of the shirt she'd picked out for him, tearing it when she grew impatient, and he couldn't have cared less; she was the one who liked it on him so damn much anyways. A breathy moan caught in her throat when her hands found his bare chest, a real homerun for the old ego, and then her teeth latched onto his collarbone. The woman suffered a horrible oral fixation, had to have her mouth on him nearly constantly, and he'd been forced many times to awkwardly explain away the angry welts she left behind. But he couldn't complain because it felt so fucking good, the press of her teeth, her wandering tongue, and they were the scars of earth-shattering pleasure. They marked him as hers, and it was nice to have some physical representation of the truth that had become his entire reality: that he loved her, fully and wholly, even after the darkness he'd been convinced had broken him forever.

River suddenly cradled the stiff length of his erection, trapped under the stifling hold of his pants. He caught the groan behind his teeth, but her thumb traced circles around the head of his cock until he couldn't hold back anymore and he stifled an agonized, trembling sound into the crook of her neck. It echoed loudly in the elevator around them, and she rewarded him with a slow, languid kiss.

MacCready yanked her vault suit down over her hips, pushed it and her panties thoughtlessly to the floor. She wriggled out of her bra, watching with appreciative eyes as he eased his pants down his hips. And when the aching hardness of his cock sprang free, she made a pitiful, feminine sound of approval that made him somehow even harder.

He couldn't keep his hands off of her any longer. He hooked one of her legs over his elbow, bracing his hand against the wall behind her, while the fingers of his other hand brushed her weeping sex, warm and silken with her desire. "Jesus, you're wet," he grunted, almost dizzy with want as he ground his palm against her swollen clit.

River gnawed helplessly on the knuckle of an index finger, her hips jerking erratically in response to his touch. "Don't," she whined, wrapping her fingers longingly around his cock. "I can't wait any more."

What could he refuse her? He angled the leg slung over his arm even higher, guiding himself to the soft heat of her entrance. He captured her lips in a savage kiss, and his tongue swept into her mouth at the same moment that he slid into her, swift and so, so sweet. They both let out mingled groans of relief, his head dropping down against her shoulder. Every time he entered her, he was shocked by how amazing she felt, so tight and warm and perfect. He briefly registered her teeth on his throat as he began to move, hips taking up an unrelenting rhythm.

"Yes, oh _fuck_ , yes," she gasped, her fingers worrying the bundle of nerves above her slick folds, her tight center clamping down on him in response. The sensations layered and intensified like overlapping frequencies of static, and her body was the closest thing to heaven on earth when she came undone with a high, piercing wail. He toyed with one taut, pink nipple as she convulsed between him and the elevator wall, cunt squeezing him like a vice.

River came back down gasping for breath, flushed and limp in his hold. She giggled under his hungry gaze, quite taken with the look on his face, like he was a blind man seeing sunlight for the first time. It felt so damn good to be the center of someone's universe when she was always surrounded by so much despair, and she didn't know how to thank him for making her whole again.

"I love you," she sighed in a lull between thrusts, and the tenderness of his embrace as he drove into her again ripped a sob from her throat.

One of his hands caught her face, angled it so her eyes were locked on his. "Again," he rumbled, slowing the frenzied pace of his hips to a languid, churning grind. His mouth when it found hers again was tender and plaintive. "Please."

" _I love you_ ," she promised once more, the last word breaking apart into a long, frantic cry.

Words he'd never expected to hear again washed like a salve over wounds that had only just begun to heal over, and she soothed all his aches better than any stimpak. She threw her head back, platinum hair striking in the darkness, and he tasted the tang of sweat when he closed his teeth around her pulse point, felt it hammering beneath his tongue. Her nails clawed at his shoulders, struggling for purchase as she rolled her hips to meet every push of his. He was deceptively lean in body for the broad, thick cock that filled her so sweetly, in waves of relentless, disabling pleasure.

River pushed weakly at his shoulders, sighing when he slipped out of her. Her leg and hip ached from being pinned up over his arm, muscles burning in protest, but she couldn't stand the thought of not having him in her for any longer than was necessary. She turned on the spot, kicking fitfully out of her vault suit, shivering when his mouth ran hot like coals over her shoulder blades.

She splayed her hands out against the cold elevator wall and pushed back against him, his hard length resting heavily in the dip of her ass. Dense as he knew he could be sometimes, there was really no misinterpreting an invitation like that. His hands caught her hips, and she loved how big they felt on her, rough and calloused and masculine. She closed her eyes, biting down too hard on her lip as she felt him prodding between her thighs. There was only a brief moment of alignment before she was stretching around him again, breath unloading from her lungs in a heavy grunt.

"Ah, God," she keened, beating a fist against the wall when he took up his earlier pace, hips snapping out an eager, determined tempo, a study of lucidity and pleasure, and she hoped frantically that he'd be able to catch her if the latter won out and she fainted. "God, you're so _good_."

MacCready's head fell back, a hiss escaping his clenched teeth. "Fu-u-uck," he groaned, drawn out and wavering with each time he drove into her tight heat, and knowing she had broken his self-control, if only for a moment, made lashes of heat unleash like a tesla coil in her feverish body. One of his hands scraped stinging trails down the curve of her back, piercing the heavy fog of pleasure with pinpricks of pain like fireworks lighting up a night sky.

He slipped his other hand around her hip, seeking where she needed him the most, and her breath hitched in her throat when his fingers found her oversensitive clit. "No," she cooed disjointedly, shaking her head back and forth. "Th-that's not fair."

"You can stop me if you want." His voice was rough with lust at her ear, arrogance like laughter around the words he didn't need to say: _But you won't_.

And damn him, he was so right. She could do nothing but let out soft, whimpering moans, helpless against the almost electric current of his touch. So many times she had admired his hands, sure and steady around his rifle, and those fingers were just as deft now as they stroked her purposefully toward release. Her previously somewhat inexperienced lover had learned her body's secrets with uncanny ease, something he loved to remind her of when he had the chance.

"You're gonna make me come," she panted, glancing over her shoulder at him with accusatory eyes.

MacCready smirked as he met her gaze, a crooked flash of teeth only slightly marred by his heavy breathing. "I know," he said with gruff anticipation. "I can't wait to see it."

"Ha-ah." Her laughter melted halfway out into another hoarse groan, and he wished he could make a holotape of all the sinful little noises she made. He could already feel the encroaching rush of orgasm making his hips flex, his fingers clumsy, and he tried to keep it at bay, but her walls started to grip him tighter as she tipped over into her own release and he knew it was a losing battle. At the sound of her unbridled scream, he pushed deep into her clenching cunt and came with a savage groan. Her muscles were still pulsing, working the last jets of cum from his seizing cock. His blood pounded deafeningly in his ears, punctuated by her fading moans that rose and fell like waves. He waited out the aftershocks, muscles tensing and releasing in quick succession, and then sank heavily back against the opposite wall.

River slid down the wall and landed in a ball of trembling limbs on the ground. She was barely visible through the darkness, but he could still hear the sound of her labored breathing. He struggled to catch his breath in the suddenly stifling elevator.

"God, RJ," she groaned up at him, loving and faint. "You are exactly what I always needed."

"Aw, come on," he teased, lazily drawing his pants back up his legs. "You're gonna make me blush."

"If you're not too embarrassed to fuck me in an elevator, I think you can take the compliment."

MacCready folded himself onto the ground beside her, watching her try to pull herself back together with some amusement. Her hands were shaky as she tried to pull a tattered sock on, and she looked up at him in surprise when he caught her slim foot in his hands. He pressed a brief kiss to her smooth calf before sliding the sock easily up to her ankle. In this tender, unhurried fashion, he helped her put her suit back on, and it was almost as fun as it had been tearing it off of her. Her fingers gracefully refastened the buttons of his shirt, though it still hung crooked from the ones she'd popped out, and she laughed as she stroked the bits of skin that peeked out through the gaps.

River shifted into the crook of his arm, eyes watering as she held back a yawn. She raked her nails through his hair and savored his grateful sigh in response. "We may've been a little on the loud side. . . ." she mused, though it was clear from her tone she wasn't too worried about modesty.

He chuckled, the husky sound that she loved. "Don't know what karma I cashed, but I definitely don't deserve someone as good as you."

"RJ." His name came out hard around the edges, creeping toward a reprimand, and it concerned him a little how much her stern voice turned him on.

"I know you don't think so," he continued quickly, derailing a conversation they'd had too many times before. "I'm just . . . really grateful. You're more than a guy like me could ever ask for."

River was quiet for a long time, resting her head against his chest, just listening to his heartbeat. After a while, he was half convinced she'd fallen asleep until she kissed the hard edge of his jaw, once, twice, letting her lips linger against his skin. "You're my second chance, too, you know."

"Guess our luck had to change eventually, right?"

As if in evidence of this fact, they were suddenly surrounded by the sweeping whir of the power systems coming back online. River let out a breath of relief and he helped her onto her feet as the lights came back on and the elevator finally started to move again.

MacCready looked down at himself, passed his eyes over her, then snorted. "We look and smell like we just had sex."

River shrugged, the picture of ease as she slung her bag over her shoulder. Amber eyes glinted roguishly up at him. "It's about time I show off what's mine," she said simply, and they'd rumbled to a stop before he could formulate a response to a statement like _that_.

She strolled out of the elevator like she owned the place, and MacCready could tell from the way the vault officers averted their eyes that her suspicion of being too loud had been correct. "Come on, love," she prompted him when he hesitated, holding her hand out, and he took it without a second thought.

This was right, _she_ was right, and the Commonwealth could be scorched to ash and rubble as long as she was by his side.

After she helped them repair the reactor, they rushed like giddy children to the room the overseer had given her. She yanked the curtains closed, and nobody dared to disturb them as he worked on balancing the scales deep into the night, though the crescendo of her wild screams made it plainly clear when they eventually broke even.


	2. Quick on the Trigger

MacCready wouldn't consider himself a particularly great teacher. He was barely an adult himself, didn't have any patience to speak of, and wasn't much into the idea of helping others with no immediate gain for himself. But when it came to River, he found there was no predicting his own behavior. She was perfection incarnate, all white softness and plum lipstick, she smelled like vanilla for Christ's sake, and she took everything he knew about himself and the world around him and mixed it up like a hurricane. But knowing her way around a rifle would benefit both of them if they were going to be traveling together, and that's how MacCready had found himself coaching the pre-war bombshell in the art of blowing heads off from a very far distance.

And she was a fucking natural.

* * *

The first time happened at the Corvega assembly plant. Through the darkness of a Commonwealth night, River snuck up into a lookout across from the factory. Her blade silenced the raider's cry at the throat before he could voice it, and she lowered his body quietly to the floor. The sight of that alone had shocked him. He knew after the time they'd spent together that violence did not come easily to her. When they'd first met, her face was smooth, unmarked, her hands soft and fine. But River wasn't stupid - far from it, she was the sharpest woman he'd met since the famous Lone Wanderer - and she knew the Commonwealth wouldn't take it easy on her because she was pretty and delicate. She shoved her unease and revulsion into a little box and locked it away until after the danger was gone. It was a necessary skill for survival, one she'd picked up on pretty quickly, and as much as he hated that she had to do that, it would keep her alive.

He watched in awe as she pulled her rifle from over her shoulder, pressed her eye like an expert to the scope. She was so still while she searched for her target, like a statue, and he studied the look on her face, wished he could sear it into the backs of his eyelids. Her lips were slightly parted, her breath tight and slow. From where he was standing, he could see the line of her delicate throat, and he didn't know why he suddenly wanted to taste the skin there.

MacCready was close enough to hear her exhale when she found what she was looking for. He watched her lean forward, the stock to her shoulder, heard her start to hold her breath. He followed the line of her rifle and spotted a raider patrolling the catwalks on the roof of the factory. River squeezed the trigger, the rifle sounded, muffled by the silencer, and the raider dropped dead mid-step, the bullet in his brain having ended his life immediately.

" _Jesus_ ," he muttered under his breath, louder than he'd intended to.

River looked up from her rifle, a question in the line of her brows.

This was before she'd blown him in the garage, before they'd realized they were in love with each other . . . they'd flirted a little, he'd had a steamy fantasy or two, but that was all really, so he knew it was inappropriate for him to get the hardest, most painful erection he'd had in years.

He coughed into his fist, shifted his weight, hoped to God it was dark enough she wouldn't notice the tent in his pants. "I'm, uh - you - I mean - good shot."

She grinned at him then, a flash of teeth and violet lips, and she was the best damn sight he'd ever seen in this sorry wasteland.

 _What the fuck have I gotten myself into now?_

* * *

It happened again months later, after revelations, after falling in love, when they came across the giant wreck south of Warwick Homestead. He trailed behind as River walked the hills around the ship, trying to get a good angle. Next thing he knew, she was on her stomach, eye to the scope, tracking motion on the ship's bow. He had the sense to crouch low beside her, resisting the urge to touch her - staring at her the way he did was already bad enough. What was it about the sight of her wrapped around a rifle that got to him so much? Like a sickness, like a fever, seeing her with her finger on a trigger never failed to get him hot. Even now, her unwavering concentration made him want to kiss her, steal her breath, make her lose her focus.

But he wouldn't - not only because of the mortal danger it could pose to either of them, or how pissed she would be if he did - because watching her then use that rifle to splatter some raider's brain all over a wall was torturously arousing. Seeing her focus and line up the shot was like an agonizing foreplay to the climax when she pulled the trigger.

Some part of MacCready understood the fixation - her pre-war memories were Nate's. They'd built a life together that was now broken, inaccessible, just as his life with Lucy was no longer possible. But these new skills she'd developed, her killer instinct, defense mechanisms that were necessary second skins in the wasteland, these were things he'd taught her, memories they'd created together, part of her new life. He wasn't intending on replacing anything, and he'd never thought of her doing so either. Life was full of chapters - and he wanted her to be in the rest of his.

It took him far too long to realize she'd caught him staring, but it wasn't the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last. She laughed, like always, and like always he loved her a little bit more.

* * *

It was only a matter of time before it was too much for him to take.

It was almost serendipitous, the pack of feral ghouls that came upon them shortly after dark one night. They'd been looking for a place to settle down, had momentarily split up to find shelter in the maze of ruined city before it got too dark to see. He'd found a decent office building - ceiling overhead, a door that closed - and had stepped outside and called her name only to see the shadows crawling over cars and walls toward him with the unmistakable erratic motion of feral ghouls. There was still a small part of him that panicked at the sight of them, dark memories too horrible to forget - _because even your fears are stubborn,_ Leah had scolded him once, trying to anger him into overcoming it; a pretty solid strategy, but his tenacity had stumped even the hero of the Capital Wasteland. He steeled himself, lined up the shots with his rifle, but there were one too many to keep them all back, and it was lunging at him with a guttural hiss. His heart slammed against his ribcage, breath sticking in his throat as he struggled to reload with shaking hands.

A shotgun blast rang out across the ruined street. The ghoul's body sagged against MacCready's legs, dead and limp, and he stepped back with a grunt.

River kicked the corpse further away from him with her boot, wrinkling her nose, and the practicality with which she did it had him hard again already. Amber eyes turned his way, bright with concern. "You okay?"

Maybe it was the adrenaline, the fight-or-flight response triggering an altogether different response, not a surprising one when she was involved, but definitely a 180 from suffocating fear. In an instant, he was grabbing the shotgun from her hands, tossing it out of the way so he could snatch her up by the waist and kiss her. It was a knee-jerk reaction, inexorable, like the passing of time itself, because he was helpless against temptation when it came to her.

River's surprised yelp melted into a satisfied moan as he pressed her up against the hood of a ruined car. She wrapped her legs around his waist, welcoming his sudden passion even if it was unexpected. He tried to be gentle, but he didn't want to be, so it was difficult, and she certainly didn't seem to mind his rough handling, if the little moans and whimpers were any sign.

"Here?" she breathed, amused and excited, and it should've been illegal for a woman to sound so sexy. "Really?"

"Right here," he rumbled hoarsely, hands inching up her shirt as he spoke, leaving trails of heat like fingerprints all over her skin. "Right now."

A silvery little laugh, so tempting it was sinful. "I'm yours."

"I know." Her eyes flashed, but he'd figured out a long time ago that she liked the look of arrogance on him. "God, it's so hot when you do that."

She shivered beneath the onslaught of sensation: his mouth like a molten brand against her skin, hands demanding and rough, need scraping like sand across his voice. "Do what?"

"Anything," he admitted and she would have laughed if he hadn't stolen her breath. "When you nail a headshot from a hundred yards or talk a raider into handing you his gun like a Christmas present. All the times you make the Commonwealth your bitch. Turns me on like crazy."

A strangled groan got caught in her throat when he ground himself against her, and he was so hard it made her stomach twist with anticipation. She'd worn a set of road leathers, a decision she was regretting now as he fumbled with the straps and buckles and a pair of pants so tight he wondered briefly how she'd planned on getting herself out of them again. She wriggled them down her hips as he freed his aching cock from his pants.

After some struggling and heated breaths, hisses of impatience, skin flushed and cold and craving hers, he lined himself up and sank into her in one brutal motion. She muffled her groan into his throat, clamped between her teeth, and he savored the pain because it wasn't sex with River if it didn't hurt a little, in that special, delicious way she had of making him crave it.

She stretched out over the hood, lips opening around a shaky breath as he filled her again. His thrusts were rough bordering on savage, and he'd be concerned if she hadn't started up a mindless, frenzied rant _god, you feel so good, fuck fuck fuck yes, RJ please._

Her words melted into a frantic cry, white hair fanned out over the rusted skeleton of what might have once been a beautiful car. It was the least of MacCready's concerns, really, as she pulled him closer by the collar of his jacket, fingernails scraping his collarbone in the process. Their teeth clashed when they kissed, and it was wild, untamed, the way he felt whenever the sight of her killing something made him hard.

He forced himself to slow down despite the raging instinct to fuck her so hard she wouldn't be able to walk, because the small remaining traces of his sanity knew that such a feat wouldn't be practical outside the safety of a settlement. And if he didn't make himself take his time, it would be over before the going got good.

MacCready slung her legs up over his shoulders, her hips hanging above the slope of the car's hood, and she was helpless in this position to defend herself from his questing fingers as they made their way down her quivering thighs.

River groaned, knew what he was looking for, hated and loved him for it at the same time. "RJ -," she started to protest, but it quickly turned into " _fuck_ , baby," as he found the swollen bead of her clit, took up an erratic, unyielding rhythm with the pad of his thumb.

"Gotta pull the cord," he grunted with a shake of his head, the sound stretching into a hoarse groan when she rolled her nipples between her fingers, bit down into her bottom lip, purple lipstick smudged and smeared and she looked like the centerfold out of a pre-war nudie magazine. It didn't help tame the boiling in his blood, urging him closer to release. Her clit was an emergency release button when she turned him on so much he knew he wouldn't last - a frequent occurrence with the white-haired vixen currently writhing on the end of his cock. "You're too good, beautiful, I'm sorry."

"No you don't," River denied him, planting her boots against his shoulders and pushing him back. He groped for her with his hands, but she slapped them away with a wicked, sultry smile. "Don't worry, baby, I can take care of myself."

MacCready groaned, a primal, masculine, wanting sound, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of her slim fingers sinking between her glistening folds. He leaned against her feet, hands caressing what he could reach of her legs but remaining obediently away from where he wanted to touch her the most.

She could see the frantic need etched across his handsome face, hear it in the catch of his breath as he lifted one of her feet and pressed his mouth to her ankle. But he wouldn't be MacCready if he didn't push the limits, his hands passing closer and closer to the apex of her thighs, where she worked herself into a frenzy. When she toed the line of her climax, evident in her grinding hips, the whine in each shuddering breath, his fingers brushed hers, pressed past them into her slick, clenching walls.

"Goddamn it, that's good," she gasped, throwing her head back, and then she was coming around his fingers, unleashing a shrill scream that echoed in the darkness around them, possibly alerting any number of unspeakable wasteland horrors to their presence, but he'd deal with it later because he couldn't bear to drag himself away from her now. He pumped his fingers into her, propelled her through the force of her orgasm until the quivering aftershocks had finally faded and she fell still, legs slumping lifelessly against him.

"You need discipline," she managed finally after she'd caught her breath, smiling lazily.

MacCready smirked, hitching her hips closer. "You gonna spank me?"

"I just might." Her voice cracked, weakened the threat, but he didn't doubt her sincerity. She sighed when he prodded against her again, and then she was stretching around him and _dear God in heaven_ he was so thick. She twitched and shuddered as he eased into her once more, feeling raw, oversensitive after her orgasm. "RJ," she groaned between arching breaths.

He chuckled weakly, bit down on a curse that threatened to slip out as he slid in deep, pressed his hips flush to hers. She was hot and tight and wet and everything good in the world. "Perfect," he declared on a heavy breath, running his hands down the sides of her body. "Just . . . perfect."

Her eyes sparkled up at him, wide and shining with pleasure. She hooked her fingers into the heels of her boots and shucked them off, one by one. He waited, inching back and forth, a tiny swell of pressure that made her clumsy, coaxed little moans out of each breath she took. She kept breathing his name, over and over, a hypnotic mantra that made his head swim.

It was dark now, an unseasonably warm night for a Commonwealth winter, and her fingernails left stinging trails over his sweat-slick shoulders. They both knew they didn't have much time to linger, no matter how deliciously well they fit together, again and again, because a super mutant wouldn't care how perfectly she completed him.

MacCready cupped her face with one calloused hand, stroked the line of her cheekbone and savored the way her eyes rolled back, the feel of her beneath him, the symphony she made out of his name, just two letters but never sweeter than in her smoky voice.

"Thanks for - ah!" A particularly deep thrust cut her sentence short. She caught her breath and tried again amid the sound of his dark chuckle. "Thanks for waiting."

He grinned, the arrogant one she loved the most. "Anytime, angel." Overconfident, but breathless, one of her favorite combinations on him.

River's laughter spilled out of her, hoarse and desperate, and the rest of the words she'd wanted to say faded into the haze of pleasure. He was moving faster now, hips snapping against hers with the determined tempo of a man seeking his release, and she knew from the swell of pressure in her body that her own was not far off.

"RJ," she said again, for what might've been the hundredth time, but he never seemed to tire of it, even now made a low, tight sound of satisfaction at the sound.

River slid her hands under his shirt, dug her nails into the tense muscles of his abdomen. He was wound up so tight, shoulders a rigid line beneath her knees, and she hated to see him suffer.

"Please," she whimpered, crying out when he slid in _just right_. "Please, please."

"Ready for it, beautiful?" He was at the last edges of his self-restraint, she could hear it in his voice, and pushing him past them always filled her with heat.

" _Yes_." The word came out a sharp hiss, made staccato with each time his hips met hers, and then his eyes cracked open, blazing blue against amber, and his voice breaking apart around her name sent her over the edge. Her orgasm rippled through her like an earthquake, flared across her raw nerves. She shuddered, and her cunt clamping down around his cock forced him into his release.

"Fuck, fuck, River," he groaned, pulling out and taking himself in his hand as he came in spurts over her thighs and stomach. She watched the pleasure pass over his face like agony, body twitching with pulses after his orgasm had begun to fade. He caught himself with a hand over her shoulder, panting for breath. Her slender arms wrapped around his neck and held him close, so she could feel the shift of his every breath, the beat of his heart against her. She whispered softly against the shell of his ear that she loved him, this was perfect, this was right, and though he could hardly hear her over the rush of blood in his ears, he relaxed into the sound of her voice.

"That . . . was amazing," he sighed, laughter curling like disbelief around the words. "Remind me to thank Vault-Tec for freezing you until I came around."

"I don't think mindblowing sex is the future they had in mind when they made us into TV dinners," she mused, climbing gingerly to her feet.

MacCready gathered up her clothes and shotgun as she steadied herself, slung the gun over his shoulder and held his free hand out to her. "Yeah, but you're _my_ TV dinner."

"You have such a way with words. Hurry up and get me inside before I jump you again."

"You might be joking, but give me twenty minutes and I'll be back in business."

"God bless the libido of a twenty-two-year-old."

MacCready was still laughing as they stepped into the old office building, the smile lingering on his face even as he helped her clean up. They crawled into the sleeping bag they shared, barely big enough for both of them (that was part of the fun). He kissed her in the quiet darkness, sharing breath and body heat, and if she could fall asleep with him like this every night, she didn't care what the next morning might bring.

If she had him, she had the world.


	3. Lipstick

One word prompt: Lipstick

* * *

MacCready stared at his reflection in the chipped mirror, struggled to make sense of the lanky guy in the tux looking back at him with wide eyes. It was probably the last thing he'd ever expected to see - himself in a suit, fresh-faced and clean - but lots of things had changed since River walked into the Third Rail, and if a little thing like dressing up made her happy, he'd gladly do it.

The Minutemen had organized a little get-together for her, nothing fancy obviously - a raise in spirits couldn't undo an apocalypse - just a night of food and relaxation. River had agreed to hoard every bottle of beer, liquor and soda they came across, and they'd brought home enough to fill the ice box in the Sanctuary long house. Mama Murphy had commissioned free hands into preparing food and setting up, and the place was really coming together by the time he'd left to get ready.

River had disappeared over an hour ago, and only after shoving the suit into his hands and making him promise he'd wear it. He'd made a good show of digging his heels in, but truth be told, she could've gotten him to do anything when she begged like that. Now here he stood in the living room of the house he shared with Hancock, stretching his arms out experimentally and watching his reflection.

"Lookin' good, kid," the ghoul rasped from the hallway with a smirk. "Real smart."

"Well, you know what they say," MacCready said, shrugging nonchalantly.

"The clothes make the man, believe me, I'm well aware," Hancock assured him, tipping his tricorn back with a finger. His smirk turned wistful. "You're a good man to humor her."

"No idea what you're talkin' about."

"Please. You and I both know bullshit don't work on me. And you live in the same town as the best detective and the biggest snoop of Diamond City. The only ones who don't know are the ones who don't _want_ to know."

MacCready shook his head, straightening what had to be the last intact tie in the entire wasteland, because of course River would manage to somehow find it. "Don't remind me. It's like living with a target on my back. You fall in love with the wrong woman, and suddenly half the Commonwealth wants you dead."

Hancock chuckled, inspecting the ruined remains of his nails. "Cry me a river. I know a few other guys and gals who'd happily take your place."

"Over my dead body," he shot back with a shit-eating grin. "Now let's go party."

* * *

It seemed like almost everyone had already filtered into the long house, and it was packed and bustling, loud with chatter as people gathered into groups. MacCready slipped through the crowd, scanning for a flash of white hair, but he still hadn't seen any sign of her.

"Where's the woman of the hour?"

MacCready looked up to see Nick, a beer outstretched in his good hand toward him - a Gwinnett pilsner, his favorite, and Hancock was right, he'd been dumb to think they could ever keep their relationship private from those all-seeing golden eyes. "She's being, uh . . . what'd she call it . . . fashionably late?"

The detective laughed, a grating but strangely comforting sound. "She's a trip down memory lane sometimes, that one. Smart girl, though, make 'em wait. The good ones always will."

"Aw, come on, not you, too," MacCready groaned, shifting uncomfortably as he twisted open his beer. "It's getting way too chummy around here."

"Trust me, kid, you were the last person I expected to find at the end of her starry-eyed gaze. But even a grizzled old cynic like myself can see you've been good for her."

MacCready was getting real tired of people reiterating how lucky he knew he was to have her, even from someone he respected as much as Valentine, and he was about to voice as much when the door swung open and white curls caught his eye.

River looked like the woman out of time that she really was. Her snow-white locks were delicately curled, and cascaded, like her namesake, down over her bare shoulders, stark against her suntanned skin. The dress was black, tight, and an absolute sin to behold on her curves. She stepped under the halo of an overhead light and he could see, even through the droves of people, her glowing face, lips curved up into a smile and he realized at the sound of Nick's dry chuckle that he'd been holding the edge of the table in a death-grip. A celebratory cheer ripped through the crowd, and her cheeks burned an appealing pink as she mouthed a thank you.

She spotted him easily, and made her way slowly through the crowd toward him, returning greetings politely to people as she passed them. She was a few feet away when he noticed it, the deep violet color of her lips, like a ripe, sour mutfruit, and his throat suddenly felt like sandpaper as he tried to swallow.

 _No way. She wouldn't do that to me._

River met his gaze, parted her lips ever so slightly, rich violet against the white of her teeth, and he coughed to suppress a pained noise.

 _Of course she would do that to me._

"How're my two favorite men in the Commonwealth?"

"Flattery doesn't work on me, doll, but nice try," Valentine responded smoothly, a far cry above MacCready's wordless gaping.

"I'll get you to blush one of these days, Nick," River teased, radiant like sunshine, and through the shock and the rush of his own heartbeat, MacCready could vaguely register the sensation of falling in love with her all over again.

"Looking like that is a damn good start. You're a real sight for sore eyes. I think you've broken our young friend here."

River's eyes turned to MacCready, and he could do nothing but stare back into the ocher of her irises, like the light that burns at the edge of a sunset. Then his eyes dropped of their own accord to her sweet mouth, curling up into a smirk. "He's a tough guy," River assured the detective as he watched her lips form every phoneme. A slim hand reached out to run down his tie, purple fingernails stroking his chest through the material, and how had she managed to find a lacquer that matched the lipstick? She smiled appreciatively, a wicked curve to it as his fixation did not go unnoticed, but she had to know what she was doing, wearing that around him. "He'll recover."

"Sure hope so," Nick chuckled dryly. "Let's give the man a moment to recalibrate. Can I get you a drink?" He extended his arm, bent at the elbow, and River slid her arm easily through it.

"Find me later," she whispered to him as she passed, wearing the smile she saved just for him, and he smiled back, watched her walk away. He sipped his beer and let out a shaky laugh, because only River could make him truly speechless.

* * *

MacCready was finishing his second beer by the time Nick and River had finished making their rounds. Codsworth whirred back and forth, serving food and pouring drinks, his many arms a blur of metal as he fulfilled a role he hadn't been able to for centuries. Sturges had been working on the speaker system all afternoon, and there was a collective cheer of triumph when Diamond City Radio started filtering throughout the room.

He downed the rest of his beer and stretched lazily to his feet.

"Sir."

The metallic, accented voice nearly made him jump out of his skin. He turned to see Codsworth offering him a new bottle and holding out a bin for his empty one.

"You trying to get me drunk, Codsworth?" he joked, more for himself than for the robot.

"Miss River instructed me to make sure no glasses go empty tonight, sir."

"Well, I wouldn't dream of going against the boss."

"Back to it!" Codsworth agreed cheerily, hovering away.

"That was . . . cute, Monsieur MacCready."

"Jesus, you guys need bells or something," he griped, cheeks burning red for a moment as Curie's innocent smile filled his vision.

"You humans are so incredibly distracting sometimes."

MacCready's eyes landed on River, laughing at something Hancock had said across the room. She looked so beautiful when she laughed, and he couldn't help a smile. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Curie was suddenly right behind him, peering curiously over his shoulder to follow his line of vision. "Ah! I see. You have your own distractions, no?"

 _What am I, king of the robots?_ "Something like that," he grudgingly agreed.

Emotions passed openly and rapidly across her face, like an automatic weapon, and poor little Curie was helpless against the still unfamiliar feelings. She blushed, finally, and dropped her gaze. "Thank you, Monsieur MacCready."

Deacon came wading through the crowd toward them, and held a hand out to the blushing synth. "Hey, Curie. Ever dance before?"

"Me?" she squeaked, eyes the size of saucers, and he wondered if that was how he looked around River. "No, I'm afraid not, Monsieur Deacon."

"Just Deacon," he chuckled. "And tonight's the perfect night, don't you think?"

He watched him take her hand and lead her out to the mass of moving bodies on the other side of the room. They disappeared shortly among the rest of the dancers and he figured it was high time to reclaim River's company. For her, he could be patient, generous, and kind, but ultimately he was a selfish devil and he wanted her back by his side.

She was just wrapping up a story for Garvey and Piper, her voice high and excited. As he closed in, he could pick up the tail end of what she was saying.

". . . so we turn to leave this bunker and we hear footsteps. And MacCready says, 'I don't think we're alone, boss,' and sure enough, a group of synths came busting out of the door behind us. Sneaky bastards had _followed_ us, the bunch of creeps."

"I thought you'd be used to being followed by now," Piper teased. "I mean, take a look at this room, Blue. These people aren't here for the drinks."

"Well, some of us are," MacCready interjected, inadvertently drawing all attention to himself. River elbowed him softly, but her eyes glinted with amusement.

"Are you even old enough to drink?"

He took a long, pointed swig of his beer, swallowed with a grin in the reporter's direction. "You wound me, Piper."

"I wish," she grumbled as River laughed and Garvey's brows dipped down in disapproval.

MacCready leaned his head in close to River's and lowered his voice, just loud enough to her to hear above the music. "I'd hate myself if I wasn't the first to steal you for a dance."

"Thought you'd never ask." She set her glass down on the table, turned back to him with a pink flush to her cheeks. He put a hand to the small of her back and followed her toward the edge of the room. The music swelled as they passed a large speaker, Sturges shooting River a wink when he saw them.

When River found a spot she was happy with, she turned on the spot, still graceful somehow in the impossibly high heels he'd watched her stash from an old Fallon's. Her slender arms wrapped around his neck and they started to sway, easily, slowly, not quite in pace with the music and not really caring about it at all.

"Found your voice again, huh?" There was amusement and desire in the smoke of her voice.

"Pretty neat trick, shutting me up," he babbled distractedly. His eyes drifted again to her lips, her perfect smile, and he shook his head as arousal twisted like a coil deep in the pit of his stomach. "I never should've told you."

"About the lipstick?" She laughed, her mouth calling to him like a siren song, begging to be kissed, and all he could think about was how fucking sexy she'd look with it smeared and mussed once he could get her alone. "I wouldn't have gotten to see that look on your face."

He couldn't wait any longer to taste her, and in the middle of the entire population of Sanctuary Hills he kissed her, lips firm with longing. Then he pulled away with a low groan, knew she could feel the evidence of his arousal between their tightly pressed bodies.

"You're gonna start a scandal," she scolded him, too breathy and far too pleased to be convincing. "I can see Piper's headlines now."

"Maybe someone'll actually read them then," he muttered dismissively between more kisses down her jaw line, preserving her make-up as well as he could while still getting his fill of her. His hands slid down from her back to her hips, tugging her even closer.

She let out his name on a shaky breath, throat vibrating with the sound of it under his lips.

Some part of him knew there was still far too much party left to be getting so bold, and someone would definitely notice if the woman of the hour were to disappear with her lovestruck mercenary for too long. "I'll be good," he promised as he straightened away from her, voice husky with desire. "Even if you make it incredibly difficult for me."

"One of us needs to be." She sounded reluctant, admiring him from under heavy lids. "You look good enough to eat."

"What, this old thing? I just threw on the first thing I found."

"Fucker."

He laughed loudly and he was suddenly aware of several pairs of eyes on them. He cleared his throat, scanning the room and challenging a few stares back until they turned away. "I think I've been hogging you," he admitted unwillingly, trying to gauge how many songs had passed since they started dancing.

"Let 'em look." River tugged him down by the collar into another kiss, almost pointed in its insistence, and his pulse was racing as she molded her body closer to his.

"River," he groaned, sliding his hands down to her elbows to put some distance between them. He tried to meet her gaze so she'd know he was serious, but his eyes kept drifting back to her lipstick, now a little smudged, and he drew in a deep breath. "I wasn't kidding when I said it turned me on. I should go clear my head if I'm gonna keep my hands off you. Smoke a cigarette or something."

She smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, love. I don't mean to be a tease, I just can't help myself."

"Believe me, I get it. Maybe you should mingle some more, go dance a bit."

"You won't mind?"

MacCready pressed a hand to her cheek, wiped clean the edge of her lipstick where he'd smudged it. "Not as long as you find your way back."

She took a little part of him with her when they parted, like every time they were apart. He shook a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and wove through people toward the door. It was sweltering in the large room from all the breath and motion. Voices grew louder as people were on their third or fourth drinks, more in some cases, if the swell of Cait's laughter was any indication.

He broke out into the cool air with a relieved sigh. He eased down onto a bench and stretched his legs out as he lit his cigarette. The smoke was thin, stale, but it was a decent distraction from his hammering pulse. He exhaled slowly, watched it curl and then disappear into the darkening sky. It wasn't long before the door opened again, and Hancock drifted his way, Dogmeat on his heels.

MacCready offered him a cigarette. He took it wordlessly. The three sat together in amicable silence, listening to the muffled music that filtered out of the long house.

"I liked the PDA," Hancock finally said around a cracked smile. "Thought Danse was gonna shoot you until she started grabbin' you back."

MacCready's laughter came out in a sudden burst. "Oops," he said. He didn't mean it.

Eventually they made their way back into the building. Some people had already left, and the room was opening up a bit. He found River easily enough in the dissipating crowds, dancing with Deacon, her laughter ringing out as he spun her. MacCready admired her graceful figure from the bar, taking the first sip of another cold beer.

"You've got lipstick on you."

He swiped a hand down his neck, where Hancock was pointing, and it came away purple. "Not my fault. She bites."

"I know, kid." A dark chuckle, a plume of smoke. "Half the time you're more hickey than neck."

"What, you didn't fall for my mirelurk bite story?"

"How many times we gotta go over the bullshit thing?" Hancock eyed River across the room with a jet-glossy stare. She was retreating now from the dance floor toward Garvey and Sturges. From her gesturing, surprisingly steady after the drinks she'd consumed, it seemed she was thanking them for the party. "Looks like she's wrapping up."

"'Bout time," MacCready said with relish, smashing his half-smoked cigarette into a nearby ashtray. He stepped off the barstool and stretched his stiff arms out. Dogmeat lifted his head in curiosity and got to his feet to follow as MacCready headed across the room.

River looked up at their approach, met his gaze and shivered ever so slightly beneath it, as if she could sense the hunger deep in his bones. He felt feral, primitive, muscles tensed and twitching to line up with hers. She pressed her bottle to her lips and he watched with rapt attention as she took a long drink, followed the movement in her throat when she swallowed. If she was aiming to work him up again, mission accomplished. Didn't take much from her, not with the lipstick and the hair and how fucking delicious she looked in that dress. He wanted to weave the silk of her hair around his fist, unwrap her like a birthday gift, taste every inch of her soft, soft skin.

MacCready was brought abruptly back to the present by Dogmeat's tongue licking sloppily at his hand. From the look on Sturges's face when he looked up in surprise, he was waiting for the answer to a question he definitely hadn't registered.

"Everyone loved it," River covered for him swiftly, her smile deceptively easy, though he could see the wicked pleasure that danced in her eyes. "You guys throw a damn good party."

"It's the least we could do, General," Garvey answered at once. "We're just glad you had a good time."

 _Her 'good time' starts five minutes from now, when I get her all to myself._ MacCready drank quickly from his beer to hide his smirk, and to squash the quiet fear growing louder that he was turning into his adoptive father. He'd seen Charon make a grown man piss himself for looking at Leah the wrong way, had heard her obnoxious, wild screaming minutes after when he drove his point home, to put it lightly. But looking at River now, he kind of understood it, that possessive, arrogant drive, and he'd need some time to himself later to figure out how he felt about it. She didn't seem to mind any, the way she kept sliding him sidelong glances, toying with the edge of the thin, gold chain around her neck.

"Thank you again." _Aaand that's my cue_. She took his hand when he offered it, his fingers wrapping easily around hers as he helped her to her feet. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her bare shoulders. Her laughter was louder than normal, almost wild, and it must have been the alcohol that made her so carefree as she leaned against him. "I'll be here to help clean up tomorrow when I'm sober."

MacCready threw his arm over her shoulder, steadying her uneasy stride. "You need me to carry you, boss?"

River smoothed her dress down, corrected her steps with impressive skill, and he wondered just how many drunken nights she'd walked off in her previous life. When she spoke her voice was low, just for him, almost inaudible over the din of people making their way out. "You know just what I need from you, RJ MacCready."

He cursed under his breath and hurried her out of the door. "Home, now."

Hancock whistled to catch Dogmeat's attention as he made to follow after them. "Wanna crash at my place tonight, mutt?"

The dog cocked his head to the side, tongue lolling out in approval.

"Good. You tell MacCready he owes me one, though."

* * *

They burst through the front door with enough force to slam it into the wall. He pressed her up against the bookshelf, kicking the door closed as they knocked books and ammo from the shelves. He hadn't stopped kissing her since they left the long house, his lips a constant, searing pressure that stole her breath. His hands were everywhere, first cradling her face then her shoulders, her hips, her ass. She'd set something loose in him, something wild and frenzied and devastatingly arousing. When he sank his teeth into the curve of her neck, she gasped, wrapped her legs around his waist and then he was grinding the rigid heat of his erection against her through their clothes.

"Where?" he demanded gruffly, winding a hand into her hair.

"Here's fine," she panted, followed by a strangled whine as he rolled his hips harder against her.

"Not for what I want." His voice was a threat and a promise all rolled up into one, and before she could even process his meaning, he was dragging her down the hall, into the utility room of all places.

"What are you - ?"

MacCready lifted her up onto the washing machine, invading the space between her legs until they lined up perfectly, his cock a hard ridge against her heated core as his mouth claimed hers once more. She wound her arms around his neck, fingernails digging into the taut line of his shoulders. He let out a sharp hiss, then a dusky laugh.

River whimpered a noise between her teeth and bottom lip, admiring the blossoms of violet lipstick over his face and neck.

He allowed her little time to breathe, just long enough to unzip the back of her dress and peel it open around her like the petals of a flower. Then his hands and mouth were on her again, fingers sliding up her smooth thighs as his mouth found the hardened peak of a nipple. He groaned in wordless approval when his knuckles brushed her slick folds. He realized that she had no underwear on, that she was agonizingly wet, and these were his two new favorite things about River. He gripped her by the knees and tugged her until she was perched on the edge of the washing machine, fingers curling around the metal for support.

He dropped to his knees, parted her trembling thighs, made a wounded noise at the sight of her glistening sex. He draped her legs over his shoulders, and then he was trailing a series of bites and kisses up her thighs, lips soothing the scrape of teeth, dragging her back and forth over the line between pleasure and pain.

She gasped his name, breathless and shaken, and he knew from the sound it wouldn't take long at all to push her over the edge, wondered if he would have the patience to make her come twice before fucking her. When his mouth closed over her aching folds, she cried out, hips jerking involuntarily beneath the sensation as suddenly _want_ was _need_ and _right fucking now_. Her hands gripped his hair by the roots, needing to hold onto something. His tongue parted her searchingly, unrelentingly, his probing touch shooting sparks of heat through her nerves.

 _I've never done this before,_ he'd admitted to her the first time he'd tried this, right before learning each and every one of her sensitive body's secrets. The memory crossed her mind every time that clever, sarcastic mouth was on her, when he felt like reminding her how easily he could make her come.

MacCready seemed to sense her distraction, and the feeling of two thick fingers sliding into her tight heat was enough to recapture her attention.

"RJ, _please_ ," she begged, not entirely sure what she was even asking him for. Her legs shifted with each flex of her hips, chasing the bolts of pleasure that sang over her raw nerves. Every pass of his tongue was a lash of heat eroding at her self-control, reducing her thoughts to white static as he wound her like clockwork toward release. She stuffed two knuckles between her teeth, clamping down to muffle her scream when she came. The orgasm tore mercilessly through her, rolled tight over every nerve in her body, left her shattered and nearly weeping in its wake. He rose to his feet, admiring the disarray he'd made of her perfect appearance. Her lipstick was faded, probably more now on him than her, and he liked the thought of her marking him up, even if the color didn't suit him half as well.

MacCready slid her heels off while she struggled to recover her breath, kneaded the sole of one slender foot and then the other with his knuckles, eliciting a soft moan.

"Ohh, yes," River sighed, gazing down at him from under heavy lids. Then her head fell back and she let out another tantalizing noise. "Oh, my god, RJ, you might make me come again just from that."

He laughed, letting her feet rest on his knee so he could reach for his tie. One of her hands wrapped around his wrist, tugging him to his feet.

"Please," she whispered, eyes shining up at him through the darkness. "Let me."

"All yours," he promised her, resting his hands on either side of her legs and leaning into the space between them. She loosened his tie, inhaled sharply when his hips bucked suddenly against her. Her fingers worked a little faster - a little shakier - on the buttons of his shirt. The second she had shoved the sleeves back over his shoulders, she sank her teeth into the curve of his throat. He grunted at the sudden sensation, trying not to jostle her as he pulled his arms free from the rest of the sleeves.

River nipped her way down his neck to his collarbone, caught her breath between kisses there as her fingers trailed like water down the ridges of his abdominal muscles. She let out a breathy laugh, drawing his curious, heated gaze. "You are sex on two legs." Her orgasm had taken the frenzy out of her lust, reduced it to a slow burn between her thighs, a deep ache she knew he would alleviate spectacularly.

RJ chuckled, the sound rough with need. He didn't say anything. Maybe he didn't trust himself to speak.

River pulled him down for a kiss, one hand spread against his stomach, the other working his belt free from his pants. His tongue pushed into her mouth, seeking hers. Maybe it was the alcohol, but every sensation felt magnified, and the freezing had left her oversensitive as it was. He filled his hands with the curve of her ass and it was like every inch of his skin on hers was a furnace, burning through to her core, stoking that slow burn back into a ravenous hunger.

When her hand closed around the thick base of his arousal, he gasped against her mouth. The breath melted into a strangled groan as she drew her curled fist up his length. "You want it, baby?"

He let out a tense laugh, his shoulder hard as stone beneath her other hand. "You don't know how bad I need you."

"Mmn, I think I can feel." Her fingers drifted like silk up and down his cock. She scooted forward to the edge of the washer again. She caught his gaze, saw the heat in the blue of his eyes as she guided him where she needed him. He exhaled hard through his nose, sliding slowly into her, inch by painstaking inch. When her eyes fluttered closed, he cupped her face, urged her in a tight voice to open them again so he could watch her face as he bottomed out.

" _Fuck_ ," he puffed out and she could only moan desperately in response. She never felt so full as when he was inside of her like this. She hissed when he started to move, easing his hips back and pushing back in, harder each time, and the apex of each thrust forced louder and louder noises from her throat. She clawed at his shoulders, might've even drawn blood, but she needed to hold onto something and he didn't seem to even feel it. He pressed his mouth to her collarbone, nipped erratically at her skin in between thrusts. His arms were tense with corded muscle as he braced himself against the washer.

River tried to be quiet, bit down on her knuckles until it hurt, but her hoarse scream still shattered the night stillness around them, and she'd have to remember to apologize to their neighbors in the morning, but RJ was so _fucking good_ inside her, on top of her. He was the darkness behind her eyelids, the air inside her lungs, the heat that crawled like a sunburn over each inch of her skin.

He ducked his head against her shoulder, breathing hard as he thrust into her again. She was tight, getting tighter, gripping at him every time he slid out and putting up a delicious, addictive resistance every time he pushed back in. He could still taste her on the back of his tongue, the warm tang of her orgasm, and he set the pace of his hips to her frenzied cries that crested and fell like ocean waves.

River brushed her fingers up the line of his jaw. He opened his eyes to her, gifted her a lazy smile, and a brief moment of clarity swept over her in its wake.

 _I love this man so entirely, so absolutely._ When she kissed him, her mouth was soft, calming if only for a moment the raging tempest of his desire.

He closed a hand gently around her throat, not hard enough to constrict her breathing, just a soft, secure pressure as he slowed his hips to an even, rolling rhythm. She keened eagerly beneath his hold and he tightened it experimentally, watched the ecstasy pass over her features in response.

One of his brows lifted into his trademark smirk, and it was even more appealing while he was struggling to maintain his composure. "That's interesting," he rumbled with amusement. His voice had never sounded so deep before, like she could feel it rattling in her bones. "You like that?"

River squeaked out a noise, strained and incomprehensible, but the way her walls pulsed like a vice around his cock was confirmation enough. He kissed her again, teeth catching her bottom lip as he released the hold on her throat. "Another time," he promised against her lips. "Can't trust myself not to hurt you right now."

She dragged in a deep breath to refill her lungs. The blood pounded in her temples, brain threatening to short out from all the stimulation, but something about the burn for oxygen had sent a dark thrill through her. He eased her legs over his shoulders, angling her hips upward, the sexual equivalent of rolling up his sleeves; she braced herself against the washer and closed her eyes, expecting to be fucked in earnest.

His hands caught her hips, pulled her flush against him - so deep inside her they were practically the same person - forced the breath out of her in a throaty whimper. He started a mercifully slow rhythm at first, a languid, burning push-and-pull that throbbed like a heartbeat deep in the pit of her stomach. A sharp pain in her leg sliced like a blade through the haze of rolling pleasure, and she opened her eyes to see his mouth on her thigh, just above the knee. The intensity of his bite waxed and waned with the swing of each thrust, but it was the perfect anchor to ground her as the room threatened to start spinning around her.

River moved one of her hands to the flat of his stomach, felt the muscles moving taut beneath her palm and she had barely enough air left to voice an admiring laugh. " _Yes_ ," she approved feverishly when he sank in faster, harder, each of his rough, masculine sounds amplified in the small space of the utility room.

"Shit, shit," she gasped, her legs tensing up to chase the release she could feel threatening to overcome her. Her hands reached for any part of him she could grab, gripped his wrists with white knuckles as she came apart beneath him.

MacCready slapped a hand over her mouth just before the scream broke free, muffling it safely against his palm. Her throat was probably gonna be shredded tomorrow, something she'd be pissed about later, but right now her tight, tight heat was clenching with devastating force around him and all he could think about was the pressure building at the base of his spine.

Eventually River's seizing body eased into stillness again, chest heaving as she caught her breath. She shifted his hand, caught his thumb between her lips and pulled it into the warm cavern of her mouth. He could feel suction and her tongue working the pad of his thumb with a dexterity that made him groan, filled his mind with memories of all the times she'd done the same to his cock. She watched his face, even as his eyes drifted shut in the beginning swell of climax.

"River - _fu-u-uck_." He jerked into her erratically, voice shattering around her name and fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. She savored the ecstasy in every line of his expression as he came deep inside of her.

For a moment they slumped together, catching their breath, and slowly the feeling returned to all of her fingers and toes.

Once he could trust his legs to hold him, he helped her down from the washer. She was an absolute mess, puffy-eyed and shaky, her hair a tangle of white curls that flowed down her back, and the fact that he was the reason why made her look all the more delicious. She clung to him for support as they stumbled down the hallway, leaving her dress behind on the floor.

"Shaun's room," she directed him, her voice hoarse and raspy. There was a mattress on the floor next to the crib and he lowered her gingerly down onto it.

"You all right? Did I hurt you?"

She opened tired, blood-shot eyes, smiled dreamily up at him. "Only as much as I wanted you to." Her whole body shuddered through the yawn that overcame her. "Blankets in the bedroom closet."

He reappeared moments later with a tattered blanket thrown over his shoulder. The mattress sank beneath his weight as he flopped down onto it, then tucked the edges of the blanket in around her. She groped for him through the darkness and shoved herself into the circle of his arms, winning herself an exhausted chuckle. He winced immediately after, clutching at his stomach as the muscles there burned in protest.

"Ow."

"Yeah. I'm feeling a little of that, too." Her fingers drifted over his torso, traced old scars and wounds. She wished she could erase them and all the ones she couldn't see, the ones that had tried and failed over and over to crush his resolve, no matter how deeply they cut. He'd had to be so strong so young and he deserved a little peace. She sat up on her elbows, and now that her eyes had adjusted she could see him smiling up at her through the darkness. Dark purple, vaguely mouth-shaped stains littered his neck, jaw, and shoulders and she couldn't resist a tired giggle at the sight. "You weren't kidding about the lipstick, huh?"

The smile turned cocky. "Well, I like to think my performance spoke for itself."

"Mmn. It did. In volumes. Worth revisiting in the future, too, I think."

His grin betrayed his pleasure at her affirmation. "What can I say? You're my muse." He brushed a stray, sweat-heavy lock of hair from her temple. "You . . . inspire good work."

"That sounds a lot nicer than 'I sure love fucking you.'"

He laughed, and there was surprise in the sound. She leaned into his touch when he pressed his hand to the side of her face. "Gotta say, it's kinda hot when you swear."

River suddenly flushed pink, teeth biting sheepishly down on her bottom lip at the reminder. "I'm sorry I made you break your promise." He blinked in confusion, so she clarified, "To Duncan."

"Oh, yeah." He shook his head, chuckling under his breath. "Don't worry about it. I'll level with him someday, man-to-man. Once he's old enough, I, uh . . . I think he'll understand." He held his arms open and she settled back into his embrace. "Besides, it's nothing to some of the things I said when I was a kid. You should've heard some of 'em." A short, indulgent laugh. "Actually I'm glad you didn't. You'd never look at me the same."

"Now you've got me curious."

He grimaced dramatically. "When you meet Leah someday, I'm sure she'd love the chance to embarrass me. But my lips are sealed."

"I get to meet the parents, do I?" she teased. "Think they'll like me?"

"Are you kidding? They're gonna take one look at you and crap themselves. You're way out of my league." She laughed, one of his hands cradling her face, tracing the line of her cheekbone with his thumb, languid and tender. "Plus, you saved Duncan's life, and I love you like crazy. They'll practically worship you." It was his turn to yawn, fingers tangling in her hair as she snuggled closer to him.

"I love you, too, RJ," she mumbled, pressing her lips to the edge of his jaw.

"'Course you do." But then he kissed her, and there was no arrogance in the action, just raw need, and wonder, and passion, and all the other insane things that happen to a heart when it falls in love. River listened to the sound of his steady breathing, slowing as he drifted into slumber. She wanted to meet the people who made him so strong, who kept his child safe while he helped her find hers, thank them personally for the man who put all her pieces back together.

* * *

It was late the next morning when River and MacCready finally met up again. They'd crawled out of bed like corpses from a crypt and parted to spare each other the very unromantic process of becoming presentable again after a night of alcohol and sex.

She looked amazing, of course, and he strongly suspected the word 'hangover' didn't even exist in her vocabulary. Long white hair coiled into that seamless bun, skin shiny and clean and how the fuck did she even manage to look so put together after last night?

Most notable, though, was her complete lack of lipstick.

"How the hell did you get it off?" he demanded, turning her around by the shoulders to check the back of her neck and arms.

She had a smirk on that would rival his when she turned back around. "Ancient pre-war secret. You have a little trouble?"

"Gee, I dunno," he retorted, tilting his head back so she could see the faint purple lip-shaped stains over his throat, skin pink and raw from his attempts to rub it off. "You tell me, is it noticeable?"

She laughed so hard she had to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Oh, come on, it's cute!"

"I look like I got mauled by rabid mutfruits."

"I kinda like it." Her eyes flashed with something other than amusement this time. "Leave it on for me?"

He lifted an eyebrow at her, mouth slowly curling into a smile. Then he laughed, low and husky. "You got it, angel." He pecked her on the mouth and then strode into the long house, with an easy swagger despite - or maybe now because of - the evidence of their drunken lovemaking all over his neck. She tried not to giggle at Preston's double-take, or the way Curie stared curiously at him, trying to figure out what kind of strange skin condition he'd developed. He didn't let it phase him as he helped clean up, even met Hancock's eye over the table they were carrying and they shared a knowing laugh.

She curled her fist around the tiny silver tube of lipstick in her pocket with a satisfied smile. Thing had cost her a small fortune, but it was worth every cap.


	4. Recollection

A little tooth-rotting fluff and reminiscing. Smut not included.

* * *

The lock box had sat, forgotten, at the back of her closet ever since she'd reclaimed her old home. She hardly ever slept there anymore, having built a new home at Red Rocket, but she'd been helping refortify some of the outer walls and wandered in looking for any loose screws. The first time she'd found the old box, still practically defrosting from her stay in the vault, she hadn't possessed the skill to jimmy the lock yet, and held little hope for finding the key after a literal nuclear apocalypse.

Looking at it now, though, it wouldn't be a challenge at all anymore. She pulled a bobby pin from her bun and slid it into the lock, twisting and wiggling until she heard it catch and swing open.

The smug smile from her small victory froze on her face as her eyes fell on white lace and she remembered immediately what it was she'd been keeping so safe. She ran trembling fingers over the neatly folded material, so soft she hardly touched it at all, fearing it might disintegrate to ash beneath her hands. Entire buildings had fallen to waste over the years, yet here was her wedding dress, crisp and cool as the day she'd locked it away.

River felt the familiar ache, memories pulling uncomfortably at the wound that had been slowly healing over. She pulled the dress carefully from the box, watched it unfold to its full length and it was a thousand times more beautiful than she'd remembered. Her hands were unzipping her clothes before she gave it a second thought, all thoughts of the wall and screws completely forgotten.

The material was soft and silky as she stepped into the dress, and pulling it over her skin was like an old, familiar embrace. She held her breath as she zipped the dress up, exhaling in relief when it slid perfectly into place. _One baby and one apocalypse later, and I still got it._

River moved to the mirror at the back of her closet, just intact enough to give her a complete image. She took herself in with wide, round eyes, and her heart split open as she realized she'd never be as perfect as the first time she'd worn it. Her skin was scarred now, bronzed from the sun and weathered by the winds, the radiation. She released her hair from its bun and combed it out with her fingers until it fell around her shoulders. She tried once more to connect the woman she was looking at with the one she'd known before, a fruitless exercise she'd given up on months ago.

The dress was sleeveless and simple, the only two features she'd wanted when picking one out, hugging her slim curves in a lovely, elegant silhouette. Seeing herself in it brought back flashes of memories, waking up at five that morning to curl her hair, because she'd insisted she do it all herself, back when her hair was a luscious, inky black. Her make-up she'd practiced for weeks leading up to the big day, so many times it was a breeze to put on that morning. She remembered the momentous feeling of stepping out to walk down the aisle, the look on Nate's face when he'd seen her for the first time that day, and she'd never seen a man who looked so in love with a woman, could hardly believe she was the one at the end of that stare.

"Hey, River, you get lost in here?"

She turned to the doorway just as MacCready stepped into it, and he stopped short at the sight of her. The planks of wood he'd been carrying fell with a clatter to the ground, and the look of shock on his face might have made her laugh if she hadn't just reawakened ancient insecurities.

"River. . . ." He trailed off, but the way his eyes devoured every inch of her finished his thought.

"Just playing a little dress-up," she joked, reaching back to unzip herself. "Let me just change and we can get back to work."

"No," he blurted out, stepping closer. His Adam's apple moved as he swallowed, and the smile that followed was equal parts wonder and longing. "You look . . . incredible."

"Yeah?" She let the word hang there, realizing what she was wearing, what it symbolized for both of them, the kinds of memories it had brought up for her and was most likely doing for him as well. It was an area of conversation they managed to normally avoid, forced open between them like the pages of a book, and she fidgeted nervously under the warm edge of his gaze. "I just . . . had to try it on. I don't know why."

MacCready seemed to find the ability to move again, came closer until he was only a foot away, and she expected him to make a move but he stayed where he was. "It's a beautiful dress," he told her, his voice frayed at the edges.

"I can't really do it justice anymore," she sighed, glancing regretfully back at her reflection.

" _River_." The way he said it made her eyes widen in surprise, a plea, almost pained, and he took her hands in both of his, pressed them to his lips. "You are the most beautiful thing to ever touch this wasted world. If there's a heaven for me when I die, it's gonna be this moment, seeing you in that dress, over and over for the rest of eternity."

She sighed shakily, eyes burning with tears that threatened to brim over. "Damn, that was good."

He rolled his eyes, but couldn't help a smirk. "For once, I'm being completely serious."

"I know." The tears were hot as she caught them on the back of her hand.

MacCready wiped away the last few tears she hadn't gotten, held her face tenderly in his hands as if he might soothe the hurt away if he were only gentle enough. He searched her face for a long, quiet moment, and whatever he found there brought the faintest smile to his lips. "Was it big? Your wedding?"

River blinked, the question taking her off-guard. "I . . . not really. Pretty small affair. Nate's family was military, spread out all over, and I was an only child. We didn't want a lot of fuss, anyways, so it was small . . . nice." Her eyes wandered, unfocused, as she tried to reach back to memories she hadn't accessed since before she'd been frozen. "I never felt so beautiful before."

His hands ran softly down her bare arms, warmed her smooth skin as he chuckled. "I can only imagine," he rumbled appreciatively.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up . . . didn't want to remind you of . . . ." The silver-tongued general, known to an entire group of people as only _Charmer_ , was for the first time ever at a loss for words. Everything that crossed her mind sounded dangerous, straying into unexplored territory, and there really wasn't a whole lot of that left between them anymore.

"It's okay," he reassured her evenly. "You have to hold onto those memories, even when it hurts. You and Shaun are all that's left of Nate. You gotta save all the pieces you can."

River had first been drawn to his arrogance, the bite of his humor, but she found the cadence of his voice here in the quiet privacy of her room, the look in his eyes as he stitched up all her wounds suited him remarkably. He'd been mourning longer than she had, knew his way around picking up the pieces. "I bet she looked amazing," she breathed.

MacCready leaned his forehead against hers, and she was relieved to see the smile remained on his face. "She did. She wasn't the dress-and-heels type. Most wasteland girls aren't, really, but she especially wasn't. Seeing her all dolled up, in that _dress_. . . . Leah and Charon spent weeks searching for a dress. God knows where they found it or how they got it tailored, but I'll never forget what she looked like in it."

"Lots of people?"

"Half the Capital Wasteland, but not much you can do about it when your adoptive mom is the wasteland messiah. Hell of a party, though. There's a place called Oasis, you have to see it someday. The plants still grow there somehow, trees and grass and flowers. It was raining that night. It made the grass shine all around her, like a painting."

River draped her arms around his shoulders, sighing when he drew her into the strong curl of his embrace. "That's a beautiful memory."

"It's why I hold onto it. Why you should hold onto yours. There's enough room for them and the ones we make together in that big, smart brain of yours." He simply held her for a long moment, stroked her back with an almost reverent touch.

He trailed his fingers up her bare back, warm like rays of sun over her skin. He cupped the back of her neck, angling her head so he could kiss her. She eased into his embrace, inhaled the scent that was so MacCready, cigarette smoke and leather and something wilder that she could never quite place, a wood fire or summer rain.

River ducked her head against his shoulder, let out a long, aching sigh. "Thank you."

This time when he smiled, there was that familiar edge to it that she loved. "What kind of man would I be not to offer a beautiful woman my shoulder to cry on?" His eyes softened in relief when she laughed, though his smirk stayed in place. "Besides, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm, uh . . . pretty crazy about you." Emotions passed in rapid succession over his face, hesitation followed by determination followed by desire. "I'd do it all over again, if you want," he suggested too casually, eyes glancing her way to catch her reaction.

It took River a moment to realize what he was offering. She peered up at him with widened eyes, searching his face for uncertainty but finding none. "You're serious, aren't you?"

He jutted out his bottom lip, playing hurt. "Jeez, River, take it easy on the old ego."

"Now you're _definitely_ joking."

MacCready watched the smile spread over her face, matched it with one of his own. "Just a thought," he said with a shrug. "Makes no difference to me. I know how much I love you even without the song and dance. But I'll swear myself to you in all the ways I can, if it makes you happy."

"RJ," she whispered, breathy with surprise. As far as she could recall, her life had unraveled only a year ago, ripped apart before her eyes, the pieces scattered across time. She could still remember pulling all-nighters prepping for the LSAT, her honeymoon in California, the nine months of cravings and nausea that had been her pregnancy with Shaun. Never along any of those lines had she ever imagined she would wind up here, without her son, her husband gone, gunning down mutants with her twenty-two-year-old lover. She'd been quite certain she would never marry again, but then she'd been quite certain she'd never love again either, and there was no mistaking the feelings she had for him as anything else. With the loss of nearly everything she'd ever known, it had been easy, almost natural to recognize the only thing that felt right, and that was RJ: his teasing, his kisses, the occasional battle-of-the-snarks that ended always in mind-shattering sex. He made her smile, made her laugh, made her come so hard it was almost a religious experience, and she'd realized a long time ago that she intended to spend the rest of her life with the sarcastic little shit.

"I'm not really _asking_ , so don't worry about answering right now."

"Change your mind already?"

"No, you're thinking so hard it's giving me a headache."

They laughed together, in hushed whispers. He wound his fingers tenderly into the white silk of her hair, his eyes soft. "Just know I mean what I said. I can't tell you how good it would feel to call you my wife."

"Jesus." She shuddered against him, smiled shakily when his brows knitted together in concern. "Wasn't expecting that to turn me on so much."

"Oh." And then, with a grin, " _Oh_."

"Behave. I think Preston's probably out there wondering where I am with those screws."

"It's a screw-related activity." Hands drifted down her back, stopped to admire her hips. "I'm sure he'll understand."

"You can't sweet-talk a lawyer - ah! -" as he bit down on the curve of her shoulder, "- no matter how good that feels."

MacCready sighed heavily as he straightened. "All right, all right. You're the boss, even if I think you're missing out." He held his arms out as if to let his body speak for itself.

"I know I am, that's the worst part," she teased, spinning around with a laugh. "Now unzip me so we can get back to work, and I promise I'll make it up to you later."

His voice was closer than she expected it to be, his fingers trailing warm down her skin before he wound his arms around her. "Just this is enough. Just . . . us. Anything else is . . ."

"The cherry on top?" she finished for him.

A soft chuckle. He had no idea what she was talking about. But he loved her, and he had her back, and he would until the day he died. "Exactly."


	5. Catch and Release

River just happened across them one day.

They were ransacking a camp they'd just cleared, stepping over grimy, sallow corpses, raiders too chem-fried to fight well and far too easy to kill. It almost felt cheap, how she'd always imagined pre-war hunting had been, gunning down doll-eyed deer in a meadow. It was a callous and a hollow thought, one that troubled her a little bit, but it was a troubled world she lived in now, and it wasn't half as disturbing as some of the other thoughts and feelings she'd experienced since walking out of 111.

She jimmied open the lock on a toolbox and rummaged through its contents, pocketing a stimpak and a bottle of buffout. And then her fingers found cool metal: the edges of the chain between a pair of handcuffs, and she suddenly imagined it pulled taut between straining wrists, her cheeks burning hot. She pulled the handcuffs out by one loop, her gaze lingering on the glinting metal. To her utter shock, the tiny handle of a key jutted out from the other cuff. She locked the cuffs to test them, twisted the key and almost laughed out loud when they easily slid free again. The toolbox had kept them in great condition.

She slipped them surreptitiously into her bag, and MacCready was none the wiser.

* * *

For weeks, the handcuffs had bounced around at the bottom of her bag, completely forgotten. River was responsible for far too many runaway synths, mutant eradications, DIY projects and settler kidnappings to keep track of all the passing fantasies that filled her rare free moments. She could almost feel the stress growing heavy like a tangible weight on her shoulders when Preston stopped her on her way out of Sanctuary to tell her about two more settlements that needed help.

MacCready urged her to keep walking, sending the Minuteman a death glare over his shoulder. "Come on, man, give her one night to herself," he snapped, and if he sounded irritated, it was only because he hated seeing the dark bags under her eyes, hearing the weariness sap the silk and melody from her voice.

"My hero," she chuckled, and even her laughter sounded tired.

"You gotta take care of yourself, Riv." His voice was tight, none of his usual humor in the words.

"I slept for like eight hours last night."

"That's not what I mean." He made sure to close each sliding door behind them as they made their way into the garage. River dropped her bag and sank onto the bed, curling her legs up beneath her. "The wasteland's probably a little more stressful than your pre-war life. You gotta blow off some steam."

Her eyes dragged down his body, flickered back up to his almost thoughtfully. "What do you suggest?" She framed it as a question, but the answer burned like a flame in the smoke of her voice.

He smirked appreciatively. "If that's where you want to take it, you don't need to convince me. As long as it's something that relaxes you. Helps you forget all the crazy stuff that happens every day."

"What do you do?" she asked, arms wrapped around her knees, chin resting in the dip between them.

He leaned against her filing cabinet, arms crossed over his chest. "When I was younger and reckless, I'd go out and hunt something down. A camp of raiders. A pack of yao guai. Radscorpions, mutants. It wasn't exactly the safest way to blow off steam, so I stopped once Duncan was born." He flipped the question on her with a shrug. "What did you do before the bombs fell?"

River chewed on her bottom lip, casting her eyes around the garage as if she could read the memories in the chipped paint on the walls. Suddenly her gaze shifted to her bag on the floor, and her cheeks flushed pink. "There is something we could try . . ."

He lost himself for a moment in the curl of her quiet laughter, seductive and timid all at once. It crawled like a fever over his skin, pierced him to the heart, provoked the ravenous craving for her that boiled just beneath the surface at any given moment. "Anything," he promised, and he'd never meant it more. "If I can help, I will."

She rose to her feet and crossed the room toward him, held him captive with the honey amber of her eyes. She was close enough to kiss when she stopped. He held his breath, hesitant to shatter her concentration and whatever outcome it might be building up to. He was hers, utterly, and he wanted her to know it.

"Do you trust me?"

He might've laughed, if the fire behind her gaze wasn't threatening to burn him to cinders. He swallowed past his suddenly dry throat. "Of course. With my life."

She nodded, determination hardening like steel in her eyes. "What stresses me out the most is the helplessness. I have no control over the world around me. Things just happen, and all I can do is react." Her fingers stroked the line of his jaw, her thumb sliding over his bottom lip, and he waited, completely still, hoping she would take whatever it was she needed from him. "Just for a night, I want to feel in control. I want to feel strong again."

 _You could shatter me to pieces in a heartbeat._ Probably wasn't what she would've wanted to hear, but it was true; she held his heart in her grasp like nobody had in years, and if that wasn't power, he didn't know what was.

River leaned up on her toes, brushed her lips against the sensitive skin beneath his ear. Her fingers curled around his shoulders for balance, the points of her nails biting like teeth into his skin. "Are you good at taking orders, RJ?"

He shivered, helpless against the mouth-watering sin that was her voice. "Not particularly."

Her smile was predatory. Devious. Stole the breath from his lungs and filled them up with smoke and vanilla, the delicious cocktail that clung to her skin like perfume. "Good," she purred finally, placing one soft, slow kiss to the edge of his mouth. "Otherwise it's no fun." She left him there to try and decipher the puzzle behind her words while she dug through her bag. She found what she was looking for and returned with a satisfied grin.

When River kissed him, fully this time, her lips were demanding, hungry, nipping at his for entrance. He opened to her and groaned when her tongue swept in, seeking his. She tasted like spearmint gum, felt like heaven pressed up against him so tightly. He made to slide his arms around her, but she pushed him away with a hand on his chest. Her eyes were bright and wild, teeth peeking out between parted, swollen lips.

"Take your shirt off." The first order came out swift and relentless, with a finality that refused questioning.

 _Easy enough_. He pulled the worn T-shirt up over his head and tossed it aside. He awaited further instruction with his arms at his sides and the ghost of a smirk on his face. It never failed to get a rise out of him when she looked at him like he was a tall glass of water she couldn't wait to drink down.

She seemed to notice his arrogant preoccupation. Her voice cracked like a whip around his next order, and if she thought she was going to scare the snark out of him so easily, she had another thing coming. "Lie down."

MacCready kicked his shoes off and crossed to the bed, making a big show of stretching out across it. He sat up on his elbows so he could still see her, smiling expectantly.

"All the way down," she specified sharply. His eyes narrowed, trying to gauge where her mind was at, but he obeyed, lying back flat on the mattress.

River tossed something small and heavy onto the bed next to his hand. "Put those on."

His fingers closed around cold metal, and he lifted a pair of handcuffs into his line of vision. He shot her a questioning look, and her answering smile filled him with a swell of fear-laced arousal. Unease settled like a lump in his throat, but he did as he was told. He made a point of maintaining eye contact while he closed a cuff slowly around one of his wrists. Each metallic click as he tightened it seemed deafening in the quiet garage.

"I want it nice and tight," she warned him. He tightened it two more clicks, until the metal sat snug against his skin. "Now loop it through the headboard, then cuff the other one."

MacCready lifted his arms above his head, craning his head back to make sure he did as instructed. Once he'd hooked the chain around a bar of the headboard, he secured his free wrist into the other cuff. Then he tugged experimentally against the hold - the metal bit into his skin, refusing to give way, and his adrenaline kicked in as he fought back a sudden wave of panic.

"RJ."

He looked up at River, standing at the side of the bed, and she must've read the alarm in his expression. She kneeled onto the mattress and leaned over him, his jaw clenched and hard beneath her fingers. "If you tell me to stop, I'll stop," she promised on a quiet breath.

He nodded his understanding, tucked a swift kiss against her fingertips. Her reassurance set him at ease again, and he was itching to find out exactly what she had planned now that he was restrained.

River got up from the bed and started to slowly undress. Peeling River out of her clothes was one of his favorite parts of fucking her, and all he could do was watch helplessly as she shrugged out of her blouse and let it drop to the floor. She unzipped her jeans next, sliding them down over her hips, and he drank in the sight of her long legs, wishing he could feel them soft beneath his hands. He'd only been cuffed about a minute and already he wanted to break free and take her. _That's . . . probably not a good sign. There's still a lot of night left ahead of us_.

River stepped out of her jeans, left in only an ancient bra and her underwear. Her eyes drifted over toward him and she smiled at the sight of him sprawled out before her. She was an almost cruel kind of beautiful, relentless and brutal, the kind that reaches for the heart and won't let go. He'd lost himself countless times in the delicate, stunning composition of her face, a tempting arrangement of high cheekbones and dark, haunting amber eyes. She still wore the old world like a cloak. It was in her mannerisms and her speech, her otherworldly obsession with high heels, the polish on her fingernails and her smile - that _smile_ that promised rapture, promised heartache, broke down all his defenses and wove itself like a virus into the fiber of his being.

River climbed onto the foot of the bed. He craned his neck to watch her crawl her way up his body. Finally her hips settled over his, and she hissed at the hard length of his arousal, caught between her thighs. He dragged in a shaky breath, hips rolling reflexively against her, seeking friction.

Her nails sank into the tensing muscles of his stomach, and he recoiled from the pain. "Behave," she warned him, stroking the skin where she'd hurt him soothingly with her thumbs.

He clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to fire back a retort. Eventually he managed to nod in acquiescence.

River felt him tense up like a stone beneath her, the frustration already evident in his eyes, and his defiance only made the obedience that much sweeter. She dragged the heat of her core up his length, watching him strain with the effort it took to keep still. She ground her hips down into him, let out a strangled moan at the delicious pressure, and he voiced a pained whimper. The material of his pants was rough, and stretched over his aching cock, it provided a spine-tingling friction against her. She impatiently unhooked her bra and leaned down to kiss him, her nipples hardening into points against his chest. She ran her hands down his biceps, felt the muscles straining beneath her fingertips. She pressed her lips to his jaw, nibbling her way up to his ear. "You look so damn good, I don't know where to start."

He laughed breathlessly. "I've got some ideas, if you're open to suggestions."

"I'm sure you do." She pumped her hips over his again, this time in earnest, choking out a sob when his cock rubbed against her just right. She barely had time to register the longing in his expression before her eyes drifted closed, fingers digging into his shoulders. "Talk to me," she prompted him breathlessly. "I want to hear your voice."

"Jesus, I'll read you all of Shakespeare's _Hamlet_ if you keep squirming like that."

River laughed, the sound catching in her throat as she ground herself against him. The pressure of her weight on his cock was muted by the thick material of his pants - pleasant, but not enough to get off on, not even close. She hunched forward, hair swinging over her shoulder, hips dragging back and forth in a steadily increasing rhythm.

"I want to touch you so bad," he groaned, captivated by the little breaths she panted out, the crease in her brow as she worked herself off on top of him. "If I wasn't cuffed down, I'd fuck you until you screamed."

River gasped, bracing one hand against his stomach and sinking down hard against his cock. " _Yes_ ," she whimpered. "Keep going."

"You're driving me _crazy_ , River."

"Don't you dare come," she panted, peeking one eye open. "I'll leave you h-here all night if you do." Her breathless keening took a little bit of the intimidation out of her threat, but he got the message and grunted a frustrated affirmative.

She let out a frenzied moan, hips moving frantically now over his. He could feel her arousal soaking through his pants, and he ached to taste her, to slide his fingers into her and feel her flutter and clench around him. It was an agonizing torture to lie helplessly restrained while she threw her head back, crying out as she tipped over into orgasm. Her nails scraped down his chest, and he arched up into the pain - anything to dull the need that burned like fire under his skin. Her thighs clenched around his waist, and her cunt was scalding against his cock even through the layers of their clothing.

River slumped against his chest, panting for breath. Her thighs were trembling, hair strewn like strands of silk over his body. She pressed clumsy kisses to his shoulder, interrupting them occasionally with the sting of her teeth.

He tensed suddenly underneath her, the handcuffs clattering against the headboard. She looked up to see him easing his arms back down against the mattress with an exasperated sigh. "It's killing me that I can't touch you, Riv," he confessed with a tremor in his voice.

"I know." She soothed him with a slow, tender kiss. "You're doing so well." Her mouth trailed lower, warm suction on his collarbone, then the slope of a pectoral muscle, down the seam of his abs. Her fingers tugged his belt free and unbuttoned his pants. He sighed in relief when her hands finally closed around him, her tight grip taking some of the edge off. His hips thrust instinctively into her hold, and she clucked her tongue in disappointment, loosening her grip.

"Guess I spoke too soon," she chuckled darkly, sliding her hands down his length one last time before releasing him.

" _River_ ," he groaned, arms trembling as he battled his own self-control, making the cuffs rustle noisily against the headboard.

"I know, baby," she sighed sympathetically. "But you just can't seem to behave."

"No, no, no, no," he pleaded when she started to climb off of him. He lifted his head, pulling against his restraints. The words seemed to die on his tongue when he realized she was sliding her underwear down her hips. His eyes followed the white fabric as it fell down her thighs, then drifted back up to take in her glistening folds. "Jesus, you look amazing," he sighed.

River couldn't help a shaky laugh. "You're so sweet," she breathed, draping herself over him again. "What did I do to deserve you?"

The strain momentarily eased from his expression. He even offered her a smile, a hard laugh that shook in his throat. "Beats me, angel."

She placed a hand on each of his thighs, dipping down to close her lips around the head of his cock. His head fell back and he choked out a long, shuddering groan. She ran her tongue around his tip, sank down to take him deeper. His legs began to quiver violently beneath her hands, and she could hear him yanking the handcuffs as far as they would go. He was hard as steel between her lips, thick enough to bring tears to her eyes as she forced him further down her throat.

" _Fuck_!" he gasped, hips twitching uncontrollably. "That's - god, that's good." He said it incredulously, almost laughing.

River gripped him at the base, fingers gentle against the curls of his pubic hair. She glanced up to enjoy the rapture on his face - eyes shut tight, sweat beading on his brow, teeth clenched behind his parted lips. She felt a twinge of guilt for being so strict with him, even if just for a night, though she couldn't deny how horribly aroused she was at the same time.

"Shit - you better stop." He sounded pissed - cut the words out through gritted teeth - but determined to obey her restrictions. "I'm too close."

She released him from her mouth, a triumphant smile spreading over her face. Her hand stayed firm around him, inching her wet grip up and down the base of his shaft. "That's it, baby."

His gaze was softer now that she'd alleviated a little of the ache, watching her every motion like his life depended on it. She lifted her hips, easing her slick folds against the head of his cock and something like reverence passed over his face. "That order still stands," she reminded him firmly as she started to sink down. His gaze was stuck on the sight of his cock slowly sliding into her, and she took his jaw in her hand to grab his attention. "I mean it."

Something about the blue of his eyes made them so easy to read. She could see the frustration, the insolence, the smug satisfaction and, most infuriating, the amusement plain as day in his gaze. She slammed her hips down flat against his, and watched all of that defiance ignite into wordless pleasure.

He exhaled a long, heavy breath. "God, that's amazing," he conceded in a strangled voice, clutching two bars of the headboard in his fists. His hips tensed beneath her hands, providing a steady base for her to grind against. "River - yes."

He clenched his teeth, gripping the headboard so hard his fingers were starting to grow numb. River was unbelievably tight, like pulsing velvet around him, and each time she dragged herself back up it stole a little bit more of the breath from his lungs. Her thighs squeezed his hips for dear life every time she sank down and took him to the hilt, her fingernails pinpricks of pain in his hips.

River's expression was like a work of divinity, eyes rolling then fluttering closed, the pink of her tongue flashing briefly in her panting mouth. When he thrust his hips up to meet her, it forced a desperate cry from her throat that nearly drowned out the sound of his own. She leaned forward, bracing herself against his shoulders. His gaze followed the hypnotic swing of her breasts until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. She was too tempting, too beautiful even when she _wasn't_ flushed and moaning and so agonizingly tight around him he saw stars like bursts of light behind his eyelids.

"You're so _thick_ ," she groaned, swaying momentarily when she took him again. "Fuck, what did they feed you guys in that stupid cave?"

He made a sound like laughter, so rough and tense it was hardly recognizable. " _That's_ all genetics, angel." He punctuated the word with a swift upward thrust, smirking triumphantly at the cry it coaxed out of her. Her eyes slid closed, hips rolling in a lazy circle, and he could tell from the way she was gnawing at her bottom lip that he was hitting every sweet spot in that perfect little body of hers.

"You're such fuckin' trouble," River chided, pushing herself up off of him. He hissed at the frigid air on his cock, wet with her arousal. Her fingers played idly with the head of his cock, and she smiled at him with swollen lips. "Why do I love that so much about you?" she mused, her thumb stroking him slowly, maddeningly.

"I won't move," he promised quickly, his voice cracking around the last word. Somewhere along the lines he'd lost his wits, the sharp sarcasm she loved and hated so much. Now all he could focus on was the throbbing ache, his cock straining for her again, any part of her, fuck, he'd rub up against the back of her thighs and get himself off, he just couldn't take the waiting anymore. "Please, River. Beautiful, beautiful River, Jesus, _please_."

His pleas for mercy seemed to placate her a little, amber eyes softening as she smiled. She placed her fingertips over his mouth and he pressed his lips to them in a reverent kiss. "All right," she conceded finally, tightening her hand into a fist around his cock, making him groan against her fingers. "Here's what's gonna happen."

RJ listened intently, fighting to stay lucid against the sharp pleasure of her hand around him. River leaned forward over his chest, and he could feel her lips against his ear when she spoke. "I'm gonna ride you until I come." Her fingers squeezed him tighter, dragged like a vice up his length and he growled out a curse, deep in his throat. "And if you're good on your word - if you don't move and _don't come_ ," she emphasized the words, fist sliding back down to the base of his cock, "I'll unlock you."

Her last words shocked him into a brief moment of clarity. He licked his lips, adjusting his wrists to ease the strain from being cuffed so long. She swung back up onto her knees, arching a brow down at him challengingly.

"You're on," he agreed, making a big show of shifting into a more comfortable position. River lined him up again with her slick folds and held his gaze when she lowered herself down around him. Her brows arched upward, lips parting around an incredulous sigh. "Fuck," she snarled, her hands splayed out over his stomach, and he'd never heard her snarl before, or expected it to be so damn arousing. She started to pump her hips back and forth, riding him in earnest. The constant pulsing and stretching of her walls around him was raw, torturous ecstasy, and briefly he feared he might not make it. He clenched his eyes tightly shut, willed himself to fight the pleasure creeping like a wildfire through his body. Some lucid part of him remembered that this was for River, and her pleasure was worth a little patience and restraint.

But River liked a challenge as much as he did, and she wouldn't make it easy on him. Every time she sank as deep as she could take him, she let loose another wild, frantic sound that tore like claws at his tenuous self-control. Each shuddering cry was more delicious and sinful than the last - _River Bautista: An Erotic Sampling_ , that's what he'd name the holotape, whenever he finally figured out how to record one, and he'd walk the wastes with the sounds of her ecstasy to keep him warm.

"RJ, baby," she gasped, her steady, determined rhythm growing erratic as she neared orgasm, her next words coming out a strangled groan. Her thighs were starting to shake on either side of him, and he felt a glimmer of hope amid the haze of pleasure. He might just make it yet, but he'd have to hurry the process along a little bit. She was beginning to clench and squeeze around him, and if he could somehow make it through the whirlwind of her orgasm, he'd be in the clear. _Yeah fucking right._

"Fuck," he groaned when River plucked roughly at her nipples, twisting them between her fingers. She whimpered at the sound of his voice, hips grinding harder against him in response. Sex was the only time he let himself get away with swearing, and something about it always seemed to turn her on. "You look so fucking good."

She threw her head back with a hoarse sob. "Yeah?" she pleaded, her hips rocking clumsily now, in desperate, frenzied pursuit of release. She cried out his name, sharp and anxious, almost panicked, and then suddenly she unraveled, sinking down forcefully one last time. She shrieked until her voice went hoarse, fingernails biting into his sides. He choked back a groan as her walls clenched down hard around him, steeling himself mentally _don't come, don't come, don'tcomedon'tcomedon'tcome_.

Finally River stilled, laughter at the end of each gasping breath. She brushed his sweat-damp hair back from his face, her nails soothing against his scalp. "Guess I underestimated how stubborn you are."

He shot her his best arrogant grin. "Rookie mistake," he teased as she lifted herself gingerly off of him.

River carried herself on weak legs to her pants and fished the key from the back pocket where she'd stashed it earlier. RJ was watching her expectantly, that cocky smile still on his face when she came near again. She tried to ignore how hot her skin felt under his gaze as she freed him. His wrists, once she freed them, were circled with angry, red welts, and a wave of guilt tore through her. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he was on her before she could get the first word out.

RJ caught her around the waist, forcing her onto her back. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, making up for lost time, the calloused fingers of one hand stroking her nipples, the other brushing over the raw, hypersensitive folds of her sex. She whimpered helplessly when he brought that hand to his mouth, tongue lashing out to clean the taste of her from his fingers.

She barely had time to process how deeply erotic the act was before he was kissing her, filling the space between her thighs. His pants were still around his ankles and he kicked them off impatiently, cursing under his breath. She managed to wriggle away a little bit while he was distracted. He noticed with an irritated growl, and dragged her back by the ankles the instant he was free.

He gathered a handful of her hair in his fist, angling her head back to suck and nibble at her throat. She savored the sting of teeth, the wet suction of his lips, and then, pushing her past the edges of coherency, his long, wide cock stretching her again, filling her to the brim until she could feel him like an electric current, leaping from vertebra to vertebra. His hips moved forcefully, but measured, as if he were still somehow cognizant that the purpose of this activity had been to alleviate her stress, and that was sweet and all, but she hadn't wound him up just to have him take it easy on her.

She caught his face in her hands, leaning up to nip at his bottom lip. He may have been the one on top, but she would remind him who was in charge tonight. "You're gonna fuck me 'til you come," she snapped, watching his features harden with determination. "And that's an order."

It wasn't an order he had any problems following. It was all he'd been able to think about since he clicked the second handcuff into place around his wrist. But she looked so damn beautiful underneath him, white hair spread out like an eerie halo around her head, need and pleasure in every breath, that it felt like a waste after all that waiting not to savor her properly. He latched onto her shoulder with his teeth, silencing her impatient little noises. His hands were trying to reach every inch of her, down the curves of her sides, over scars, freckled skin and stretch marks, imperfections he loved so absolutely she'd stopped being self-conscious about them months ago. Every piece of her was perfect as it was.

She smiled gratefully, seemed to read the appreciation all over his face. "Come here," she laughed, pulling him down into a kiss. Her lips moved slowly, tenderly against his, and then deeper, her tongue sliding across his bottom lip and then drawing it between her teeth. Her thighs shifted wider, allowing him to inch deeper inside of her, and they both cried out at the sensation. "Fuck, perfect, yes," she gasped, throwing her head back. His eyes strayed to the column of her throat, pale and perfect, and he was wrapping his hand around it before he could even register the desire to do so. She exhaled a blissful sigh, opened dark, amused eyes to meet his gaze. She licked her lips in anticipation, curling a slender hand around his wrist. "Do it, baby," she breathed, tilting her head further back.

He tightened his grasp, leisurely, on every other thrust into her tight, slick heat, to slow himself down and give her the chance to stop him. But his hold seemed to sharpen her pleasure, made her gasp and sigh adoringly. He could feel her throat swell beneath his grip with every breath, her pulse pounding rapidly under the pad of his thumb. Her eyes widened, glistening wet with rapture, mouth moving silently around phonemes she couldn't voice. He might've been on his knees professing his eternal love and fidelity for all the bliss in her expression, not squeezing the air from her throat, with his cock so deep inside of her it stole what breath was left.

MacCready dipped his head against her sternum, losing himself for a moment in the feeling of her clenching around him. She mewled and writhed each time he slid back in, her nails raking down his back and side, leaving angry red trails he would definitely feel in the morning. He loosened his grip, shifting his hand up to cradle her face, while she caught her breath with arching gasps.

He traded pace for deeper, slower thrusts, taking her breasts in his hands like he'd been dying to do since he first restrained himself. She shuddered when he rolled her nipples between rough fingers, and then she was coming so suddenly it took him by surprise. He braced himself with a grunt against the mattress as her sex tightened and pulsed around him, providing such a delicious friction it threatened to push him over the edge. She gripped his shoulders with white knuckles, unleashing a shriek to wake the dead. He wondered briefly if they could hear her all the way in Sanctuary, and then found a sliver of himself hoping that they would. That her screams of ecstasy would wake up Garvey in his bed, make it clear that MacCready could tend to _all_ of his precious General's needs without any help from anyone else, thank you very much.

"RJ," River scolded him when she came back down and realized he'd stopped moving. With her all flushed and breathless after her orgasm, the frustration was more adorable than intimidating, but he pushed back into her nonetheless, with a pointed roughness that made her groan.

"Don't worry," he reassured her, voice heavy and rough at her ear, "I'm not done with you yet." He fit his hand once more into the groove beneath her jaw line. She took one last deep breath before he applied pressure - harder this time, more insistent, feeling out her limits. The leverage allowed him to thrust deeper, angled higher, and he felt the cry in her throat under his grasp, her walls so sinfully tight around his cock.

River closed her eyes, listening to her heartbeat like a drum in her ears. The pleasure was all she could comprehend, heavy, abrasive, almost too much to handle. She could still breathe past his grasp, but too slowly, so that she felt the gentlest edge of burn on each torturous inhale. Faintly, over the sound of her racing pulse, she could hear his breath at her ear, rough and strangled and so goddamn sweet, she loved the sound of him falling apart, there was nothing better in this whole fucked-up, ruined world. She clutched at his shoulders, pressing kisses to his temple and ear, any part of him she could reach. When her lungs started to protest, and her thoughts drifted toward dark static, she dug her nails into his arm and he eased off. He pushed into her and held himself there, filled her fucking full while she caught her breath. She tried to form words, and once she found her voice they spilled out of her in an incomprehensible stream: "Fuck, RJ, oh my god, oh my god, I can't believe it, that'ssogood."

RJ laughed, soothing her throat tenderly with his lips. "That's a new one."

"I don't control my rants," she sighed, amused, her head feeling a little clearer now. "You just fuck 'em out of me."

"I liked that one." He moved his hips, small thrusts that melted the words at the back of her tongue into shallow, lilting cries. He must've decided they weren't important. They were, but they could wait - would have to, really, because he was picking up the pace again and completely scattering what little focus she'd managed to gather.

"Please, baby," she panted, trailing suckling kisses down the side of his neck, sweat and soap on her tongue. "I need it so bad."

RJ groaned, grabbing her hips in his hands. She whimpered when he dug his fingers in, nails biting her skin. His hips moved insistently, focused, nearing release, and she wanted so desperately to feel him fill her, that intimate, breathtaking moment that felt like breaking free, like salvation, like knowing she got to spend the rest of her life with him and she would _literally kill_ anyone who tried to take him away from her. It was a defensive, primal, wasteland kind of love, deep in the marrow of her bones, as much a part of her now as the blood in her veins and it was damn good to be whole again.

River felt the warmth and pressure when he came, savored the agonized noises he muffled against her shoulder. Her lips moved tenderly down his jaw, softer now that she was sated, his hips still jerking erratically against hers as he drew out the last few waves of his climax. She loved to watch the pleasure seize his expression, feel his muscles bunch and tense above her.

And then suddenly RJ was laughing, breathless and exhausted, almost hysterical.

She patted his shoulder to make him sit up, her voice high with concern. "Baby? Are you okay?"

"How does it keep getting better?" He pushed his hair back from his face and grinned appreciatively down at her. "Every time is the best time ever. How is that even possible?"

"You goof. You had me worried." She grabbed one of his arms and inspected his wrist. "I'm so sorry, baby, you should've told me it was hurting you." She pressed gentle kisses to the bruised skin.

"Don't worry 'bout it," he yawned, tugging her against him. "I kept pulling at them. Wanted you too bad."

River snuggled up into his side. She was sweaty and sticky and uncomfortable, but she couldn't convince herself to leave the warm curl of his arm. "Have I mentioned lately that I love you?"

He rolled his eyes, his smile betraying his affection. "Only all the time."

"Good. I wish I could say it with every breath, I feel it so strongly." She ducked her head against his shoulder and he held her tighter, until she could hear his heartbeat beside her ear, slowing in the wake of their lovemaking. "My perfect, delicious man. What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"You ask me that like I'm supposed to know." He kissed the crown of her hair. "You're the brains."

"S'that make you the looks?"

"No, that's you, too." He laughed with her this time, even though it looked like he could barely keep his eyes open. He managed to peek one open when she pulled out of his arms. "No," he protested sleepily, groping for her.

"I'll be back. You stay right there."

He must've drifted off at some point, because when he next opened his eyes, River was in his shirt, sitting on the bed at his side. She pulled a washcloth from a bucket on the floor and wrung most of the water from it. He sighed in relief when she pressed its warmth gingerly to his throat. She ran it in soothing strokes over his neck and shoulders, then down the length of his slender chest to his hips. Her hands were gentle when she cleaned his oversensitive cock, and still he twitched away from her touch, laughing shakily. He heard her sliding the bucket away from the bed and then she was back, wrapping herself affectionately around him.

"Do you need a stimpak?"

"Mm-mn. Just you." RJ shifted her hair out of the way so he could kiss her cheek. "Love you."

"Always." She stroked his hair until long after he'd fallen back to sleep, enjoying how peaceful he looked. She felt boneless and satisfied and the good kind of sore that probably wouldn't be so good come morning. Eventually the sound of his deep, even breathing and the distant whir of the generator and turrets outside lulled her to sleep. She was so exhausted she didn't dream a thing.

In the morning, he found the handcuffs, key included, in one of his jacket pockets. When he asked her about it, she smiled, looking more carefree than he'd seen her in months.

"Keep it. You get the key next time."


	6. A Helping Hand

River admits to threesomes in her college days. MacCready recruits Hancock for a reenactment. (AKA that night where they both bang River; threesome, DP, rough sex, breathplay, spanking... you get the idea)

You've been warned.

* * *

MacCready wasn't sure why he couldn't get the idea out of his head. She'd mentioned it in passing last night over dinner: a few drinks in, sultry and flirtatious, like she ever needed to be either to seduce him. She could pull her pants down and point wordlessly at the nirvana between her thighs and he'd be inside her in a moment. But that was what he loved about her, the drama and emotion she carried over from the old world, like a relic, a fossil of a life he could only ever imagine.

" _Pre-war life was far from boring_ ," she insisted, a hand inching up his thigh. " _I'll have you know I did my fair share of crazy things when I was younger and much, much dumber._ "

" _Try me._ "

She averted her gaze, nibbling her bottom lip pensively, and he knew her well enough to know she was holding onto something good. He faked a dramatic yawn to provoke it out of her.

" _Fine_ ," she snapped, lips turning up into a reluctant pout. " _When Nate and I were in college, he and his roommate used to . . . share me."_

And then he'd listened in shock and fascination to her explanation, watching the pink grow in her cheeks, and realizing that he wasn't the only one growing more and more aroused with each word.

 _ **Share me.**_

The two words had echoed like some hypnotic mantra in the back of his mind ever since, the way her lips had formed around the phonemes like a prayer - he thought of it while they finished their drinks and afterwards, when he'd made love to her, he'd pictured the hands of another man on her body, pleasing her, worshipping her like she deserved to be worshipped. It felt fucking strange - equal parts envy and arousal, with the latter growing stronger every time he looked at her and imagined just how hard two men might be able to make her come.

It took about a month for him to realize he wasn't going to shake the fantasy. It had latched itself like a parasite to the stem of his brain, braving the stream of his thoughts for weeks until it resolved into the decision that he had to do something about it.

It was another few weeks before it seemed all right to bring it up again. River had been traveling to and from the Institute regularly now, and each time she returned more drained than the last. She'd found Shaun, but had no chance for relief or joy since their reunion. If anything, he seemed to only be adding stress onto her already overburdened shoulders. MacCready loved her desperately, devastatingly. He would level the whole Institute if it meant she'd get a little peace and quiet again. Inviting another man into their bed seemed such a small - and, okay, maybe just a little bit exciting - favor in comparison.

She didn't seem surprised when he brought it up, so vaguely he may as well have been talking about nothing at all. "I can't stop thinking about what you said the other night."

But she did seem a little embarrassed when she replied, "Me, too."

Well.

"But we gotta take it slow," she continued quickly at the smile that spread over his face. "I mean, it's been literal centuries, and I'm not twenty years old anymore." She paused to kiss him, soft and sweet with a sensual heat in the feeling of her tongue brushing his. "It has to be someone we trust."

"Besides you, there's only one other person I trust in the whole Commonwealth."

River smiled mischievously. Felt like he could read her mind at times. "Okay," she agreed, anticipation low and silky in her voice. "Let's write him a letter."

* * *

Hancock sighed heavily, leaning back in his seat. The mentats hummed like a current through his mind, carrying his thoughts to completion even while his body screamed for sleep. He thought of his bed at Sanctuary with longing, waking up in the early afternoon and lazing about, high on jet, with Dogmeat in the sun. Occasionally escorting River on a mission and watching her kill things in that deliciously tight vault suit of hers. He considered MacCready a good friend - hell, a best friend, all things considered - would never dream of jeopardizing the relationship there, but he'd have to be four kinds of blind not to notice the curves on that woman.

"Hancock."

He looked up from the papers strewn over his desk. Fahrenheit leaned against the doorframe, a makeshift envelope in her hands.

"Letter for you. Came in on the last caravan."

"Give it here. Might as well take care of it now, before the mentats wear off." He unfolded the letter and started to read it with disinterest. Then, as the words started to sink in, his jaw dropped and he stared at the piece of paper as if it might jump up from the desk and attack him.

Fahrenheit cocked a brow at him. "Everything all right, boss?"

Then Hancock laughed, a low, husky, dangerous-sounding growl. He stuffed the letter into his pocket and got to his feet. "Everything's perfect. In fact, everything's fucking fantastic," he assured her, throwing his coat over his shoulders. "And I gotta go. Be a doll and take care of the town for me, wouldja? Don't burn the house down and don't answer the door for strangers, you know the whole song and dance."

Fahrenheit watched him leap down the spiral staircase with a new spring in his step, shaking her head with a curl of dark laughter. Nothing but a woman ever put a fire under the boss like that. She wondered how far the letter had come from, and how long it would take him to get there.

It ended up taking all night to get back to Sanctuary Hills, but Hancock didn't mind the journey. He reread their letter for the thousandth time, cigarette after cigarette burning to ash in his hand. He'd spent enough time around the couple to catch glimpses of their intimate life - a kiss that lingered too long here and there, an embrace that was just a little too tight, hands that wandered to places indecent for a public setting. MacCready's sexual appetites didn't surprise him - he was young and male and hitched to the most beautiful woman to ever grace the Commonwealth dirt beneath her boots. But River, she was an enigma, the pre-war pin-up, eyes the color of honey and a voice just as sweet. He'd be lying if he said he'd never harbored any fantasies about her, before she and MacCready became a thing and then even, in the uninhibited haze of a jet high, several times afterwards. Picturing her soft skin and those legs for days, warm and smooth beneath his hands, the kinds of sounds he might be able to tease out of her. If he wasn't staring at the words on paper right in front of him, he wouldn't believe they were real.

 _Hancock -_

 _I'm sorry to bother you while you're working. But something MacCready asked me the other day brought up some memories - old memories, pre-war, faded and blurred._

Even without the looping, elegant script, he knew it was River from the flow of her words. Woman could charm the pants off a raider if she felt like it.

 _Once upon a time, I used to know how to have fun. It's a skill MacCready is helping me to remember, despite how the Commonwealth has changed around me. Back in my college days, that 'fun' used to include a third person - another man, in fact. We trust you, John, more than anyone else, otherwise we wouldn't even have the courage to ask._

 _Would you care to join us for a night?_

And then, in what was unmistakably MacCready's clumsy scrawl:

 _I see the way you look at her. Now come back to Sanctuary and get in on this._

Kid thought he was so damn funny.

 _If you're not interested, we won't make things weird. Promise._

 _Hope to hear from you soon._

 _Love,_

 _River and RJ_

A woman like River could be the death of him, but mortality wasn't a prospect that had ever slowed him down before. Be a hell of a shame to let it stop him now.

* * *

River set out in the morning to repaint the picket fence outside of the Ables' old house, using the free time to tackle her overflowing to-do list. It had been about a week since they sent their letter off with the caravan, and she'd had butterflies in her stomach ever since. The busywork helped, and MacCready's occasional assurance, always with a grin, "Oh, he'll come. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

But nothing seemed to be able to staunch the fantasies that plucked coyly at every idle thought, piecing together faded memories of hands, so many hands, touching her everywhere all at once, so much sensation it felt like coming alive after a long, deep slumber - funnily enough, an experience she finally understood. The memories mingled with newer ones, MacCready's voice breaking apart around her name, his teeth on her skin, wide, rifle-calloused fingers leaving trails of heat and pleasure over her body. And then there was the fantasy, imagining new, foreign hands on her skin, mottled and rough, that devilish rasp coaxing her through heights of ecstasy she hadn't experienced since before the bombs dropped and destroyed the world as she knew it.

That sensual, haunting image was still in her mind when River headed inside the house for more paint. She rested briefly against the kitchen counter, enjoying relief from the hot sun. She wiped her brow with the back of her wrist, turning to notice for the first time Hancock himself, watching her from where he leaned against end of the hallway. She gaped at him, trying to summon words past the filthy thoughts she'd been having about him only moments ago. He must've come in last night, too late for anyone to notice. His boots were still muddy from the journey.

"Hancock," she finally managed to say, feeling her cheeks burn.

"In the flesh." That last word in his voice felt like a mortal sin.

"I take it you, uh . . . got our letter."

He pushed himself off the wall and came closer, the smirk on his face so devious she feared for a moment he could somehow read her thoughts, then figured they were probably pretty obvious from the expression on her face. He crowded her up against the counter, planting his hands on either side of her hips, and she felt like she could've fallen endlessly into the black depths of his eyes. "I did," he rasped, pulling the folded slip of paper from his breast pocket. "Have to say, never thought I'd get a summons from the General herself."

"Well, it's not all business, Mayor," River played along, finally remembering how to smile, noticing the way his eyes drifted to her lips and stayed there. "Though I thank you for showing up so quickly." _Seriously, he must've hit the road as soon as he got it to make it here so soon. Damn it, if RJ isn't always somehow right._

"I could never keep a lady like _you_ waiting." He leaned in close, until she could feel his breath along her jaw line, his voice like a physical sensation crawling rough and sensual over her skin. "You know, I've always wondered. Are you as much of a screamer as I imagine you are?"

River bit back the groan that almost made its way out, her knees feeling weak. "That's for us to know and you to find out," she teased, once she'd found her voice again, slipping out from between his arms. He watched her pick up another can of white paint and head for the door, the smirk still on his face. "Go find MacCready, if you get a chance. He wanted a word with you." She paused in the doorway and shot him a wink. "See you tonight at Red Rocket."

Then she was gone, and Hancock flexed his hands, dying to feel her between them. They'd barely spoken five minutes and already he wanted her so bad it was painful. She'd never looked at him like that before, breathy and pouty and practically oozing sensuality from the white silk of her hair down to her long, shapely legs. He wondered how MacCready could stand it, being around her all the time. Must've been torture not to be inside of her every waking moment.

"She said I'd find you here." MacCready grinned smugly at him from the doorway. "Oh, man, you look shell-shocked. What'd she say to you?"

"Nothing, really. Doesn't really need to, you feel me?"

"Believe me, I get it." His smile faltered then, and he cleared his throat, casting his eyes elsewhere. "Look, this is definitely still a little weird for me. I want it, and she wants it, just, uh . . ."

Hancock pressed a reassuring hand to his friend's shoulder. "This ain't my first threesome, kid. We'll start slow, yeah? Feel things out."

The smile returned, grateful this time. "Thanks, man. Something like this . . . it's been a while for her." He let out a sigh, hard with frustration as he struggled to find the right words. "This Institute shi - stuff," he corrected himself impatiently, "with Shaun and everything . . . it's getting under her skin. She needs to do something selfish every now and then. She's tried to talk me out of this, like, fifty times already because she thinks she's forcing me into it."

Not surprising, from River.

"What I'm trying to say is, her having a good time is the whole point. If she calls it off, it's off. I just wanted to make sure there's no hard feelings if that happens."

"You've seen this mug," Hancock joked, lighting the cigarette at his lips. "Surprised she didn't call it off the second she saw me today."

MacCready studied him intently for a while, finally offered up a fond, distant smile. Thoughtful looked strange on a face so young, and he wondered what exactly the kid was remembering to give him such an expression. "You should hear some of the things she says about you. Then you'd know how stupid what you just said is."

Hancock glared, but damn if his curiosity wasn't piqued now. "Oh, yeah? What kinda things we talkin' about here?"

"No way. She'd kill me if I told. You'll just have to find out."

"Goddamn, is she teaching you how to be cryptic? She only gets away with it 'cause she's drop-dead. It's gonna get real old from you, brother." He couldn't help a smile when MacCready snickered. "You're, ah . . . sure you're good with this, too, right? I'll be the first to admit I've broken my fair share of hearts, but I care about you guys."

"Don't worry, man. We're good." MacCready shrugged, face scrunching up in almost comical confusion. "I don't really get it myself, but the thought doesn't bother me at all. I guess we'll see when it's the real thing, right?" The end of his sentence tapered off, slipping toward uncertainty.

"You can back out, too, you know," Hancock offered solemnly. "You just say the word."

"Thanks, Hancock." He picked up the last bucket of white paint, eyeing the muddy tracks Hancock's boots left across the living room floor. "You got here awful quick," he teased.

"You seen that woman of yours, kid?"

"I know, right?" he laughed, arrogant as always. "Look, I gotta go help with this boring settlement stuff. Meet us at the gas station tonight. Bring some drinks, maybe. She likes whiskey." He stepped over the threshold, calling casually over his shoulder, "Later, Hancock!" as if they were just shootin' the shit, not discussing the logistics of the two of them fucking the love of his life later that evening.

Those two were somethin' else, that was for sure. Strange and sarcastic and his kind of freak show.

* * *

Time had never passed so slowly before, and he'd done every time-altering drug in the book. Hancock was stretched out over a sun lounger, Dogmeat curled up in the grass at his side. Somewhere in the distance a radio was playing, interrupted here and there by the staccato banging of some settlers at the side of a house. Felt damn good to be back, nothing on his plate but a little sexual frustration. He was a big enough man to handle that for a few more hours. He peeked an eye open, gauging from the sun how late in the day it was. _Okay, several more hours. Fuck me._

He liked this spot the most, more toward the river than the town. Fewer people out and about, eyeing him with distrust or curiosity. Just him and the dog, soaking up some sunshine. He reached out to pat the hound appreciatively and opened his eyes when he found only empty air. Dogmeat was sitting up at attention, staring off toward a house halfway between them and Sanctuary's entrance. Hancock sat up on his elbows, feeling his stomach do a sudden turn as he realized what had caught the dog's attention.

There was a small tool-shed in a nearby backyard. MacCready had River pushed up onto a workbench behind it, a hand braced against it at her side. They were tucked into the shadow of the shed, the side facing the river, practically nonexistent to anyone wandering about town, but perfectly visible from Hancock's lounger. It seemed too convenient to be coincidental, but they made no indication that they knew he was there. MacCready ducked his head low to whisper something in her ear, and at this distance Hancock could only imagine what he might be saying, what might turn a woman like River on. Whatever it was made her laugh, and if he strained he could just catch the melodic sound of it.

River put a hand on his chest, holding him back, and from her body language it seemed like she was trying to protest, if only playfully. But MacCready was all hands, on her waist, her hips, sliding up beneath the cotton of her T-shirt. He lowered his head, kissing her throat, and judging from the way River curled readily against him, he knew just how to get her riled up.

 _Atta boy._ Hancock sat a little higher on his lounger, slowly, trying not to be noticed. He was already hard, and he palmed the stiff length of his cock, adjusting it beneath the weight of his pants.

They were kissing now, River tugging him closer by the collar of his shirt. He wove his fingers into her hair, releasing it from its band so it fell in platinum waves down over her shoulders. She was already working his belt open - _Jesus, she's fuckin' eager_ \- a smile on her face that Hancock could make out even from here. She was wearing a skirt today, and one of his hands slid up the slope of her thigh, disappearing underneath it. Only moments later, River threw her head back, rolling her hips against him with need.

 _Good with your hands, huh, MacCready? All the locks I've seen her pick, I bet River's pretty damn good with hers, too. . . ._

MacCready pulled her underwear down her legs, River lifting her hips to help him peel them off. Then he was yanking her to the edge of the workbench, lining himself up, and Hancock held his breath as he watched him push into her. She fell back against the shed with a gasp as he ducked his head, mouth moving frantically. If anything could make the stubborn kid forget himself and curse, Hancock figured it was probably that moment, sliding into her sweet cunt for that first time, and he wondered if she was as beautiful there as she was everywhere else. He'd bet his whole stash that she was.

He watched in voyeuristic fascination as MacCready pumped his hips, hasty, clumsy due to the height difference between him and the workbench, but River seemed no less pleased for it. She clawed at his shoulders, those long, sexy legs wrapped around his waist like she'd never let him go. From the way her lips were parting, he could only imagine all the delicious little noises she must've been making.

Hancock had to hold back a groan, trying to ignore his aching cock. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this hard. He flexed his hips, longing to hear and feel and taste her for himself.

Once they were through with her tonight, she'd forget the Institute even existed.

 _Am I just really high? Is this all some crazy jet hallucination?_

Hancock perched at the end of the lounger, watching raptly as MacCready and River rutted like animals behind a tool-shed. It wasn't an activity he'd ever imagined himself partaking in, but now that he was here, he couldn't take his eyes off them.

She was ten different kinds of sexy he couldn't even begin to put into words - so responsive to every little thing he did, from his teeth at her throat to his hands on her ass, coaxing her legs further apart so he could thrust deeper. MacCready was rough with her, rougher than Hancock would've been - she was probably gonna have bruises on her shoulders from hitting them against the tool-shed behind her so many times, and Hancock grumbled under his breath in discontent. He was gonna strangle the kid if she was too tired and banged up for their plans later.

River seemed fine, though. More than fine, if he was being honest. Her cries were getting louder, each one like an electric shock to his nervous system, delicious chills down the length of his spine. MacCready was fucking her faster now, so hard her teeth were probably rattling and the tool-shed threatened to come down behind them. He pushed her shirt impatiently up over her breasts, taking the rosy peak of a nipple into his mouth. Seemed like they didn't want to dawdle in such a public place, no matter how badly Hancock wanted them to go on.

 _Fuck it, she practically owns this town. What's the point of bein' in charge if you can't filthy up a tool-shed every now and then?_

He'd had his share of alleyway trysts in Goodneighbor, but what he was witnessing was an entirely different beast. First of all, despite how savagely he was fucking her, MacCready was absolutely head over heels for her. You could hear it in the way he said her name, the look on his face whenever he saw her, even now in the gentle press of his hand against her face. Second, River was no Commonwealth broad. She was grade-A pre-war perfection, curves in all the right fucking places, and those lips you couldn't help but picture around your cock.

The mental image made him grunt at another wave of arousal, clutching the arms of his chair. " _You wouldn't believe what she can do with that mouth_ ," MacCready had confided in him one drunken night, after the woman in question had already passed out. Had he been thinking of Hancock fucking her even then?

The ghoul sighed, frustrated, the remains of his skin itching and oversensitive. He wanted to march over there and tell them they didn't need to try so hard, he would gladly fuck River without all this production. Wanted to ease himself in behind her and feel every clench and swell of her body when she came apart. Wanted her to hear his voice in the throes of her climax, as he told her how beautiful she looked, how badly she made him want her.

Hancock had been staring too long without looking away. He realized it the second River's head turned his way and they made eye contact over a distance that felt like an entire ocean. He swallowed past his dry throat, willing himself to look away, but those amber eyes held his firm. Then she was shouting, growing louder into a crescendo, holding his gaze until she couldn't anymore, and she closed her eyes, let herself get swept up in the force of her orgasm.

 _That's it, kitten. You come nice and hard. Jesus, look at you._ He felt wild, on the verge of feral, worried for a fleeting second he might come in his pants like a teenager. If she was normally appetizing, she was fucking mouthwatering when she came. He wanted his face between her thighs for the next forever. Wouldn't mind if he died with the taste of her on his tongue, and if that wasn't the most romantic thing he'd ever thought about a broad, he didn't know what was.

MacCready gave a few more erratic thrusts before he stiffened, biting the base of her neck to keep himself quiet. River stroked the back of his head, soothing him as he came inside of her, while Hancock tried to tame his racing pulse with deep, measured breaths.

He liked to think he'd lived a thrilling, adventurous life - shared his bed with too many beautiful women to count, but watching his best friend fuck River was hands down the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

The rest of the day passed without incident. River seemed to be giving Hancock some distance, whether out of embarrassment or as yet another way to drive him crazy, he wasn't sure. Pre-war dames weren't exactly his specialty. All he knew was he couldn't get her out of his head: her delicious screams and that haunting, pointed gaze she'd shot him as she came around MacCready's cock. Jesus, it was enough to drive a man insane. His whole body still felt tense and uncomfortable, erection straining for friction in his pants, but he refused to touch himself when there was promise of River's soft, perfect hands on him at some point later.

It was dark when MacCready finally came to get him. He knocked at the door frame, eyes bright and excited. "You ready, man?"

"For River?" Hancock stubbed his cigar out, exhaling a thick plume of smoke from between his grinning teeth. "Always."

They moved quietly down the street. Most people had headed indoors already. There was no one but the guards at the gate to notice them making their way toward the gas station, but after that little performance they put on for him today, Hancock had to figure River wasn't too concerned about her sterling reputation as General.

"Any collateral damage earlier?" he teased once they were out of earshot.

"Couple settlers might've overheard, maybe," MacCready said, averting his gaze. "She promised she'd be quiet." Then he chuckled darkly, and he didn't need to voice the rest of his thought: _Yeah, right._

Hancock studied his expression, smoothed out like glass, like the kid didn't have a worry in the world. He wondered if he just really loved River that much, or if this was something he genuinely wanted. He'd certainly heard of - let's be honest, participated in - stranger circumstances, romantic, carnal, and everything in between. Just hadn't expected it from these two.

 _Interesting_ , he remembered telling River once, so high at the time he couldn't be entirely sure it really happened. _Real interesting._

He hadn't known the half of it.

The lights were on at the gas station, and Hancock almost laughed at the sight. Something like relief and anxiety and a maddening, ravenous lust settled deep in the pit of his belly. He followed MacCready into the garage, and then he saw River and stopped dead in his tracks. It was incredible how quickly she could reduce him to a pile of bones and brain and muscle, the long sweep of her white hair, so much better when it hung free like that, the tempting shape of her legs beneath the cut of her dress.

She was standing on her tiptoes, trying to reach some candles on a shelf just out of her reach. She glanced over her shoulder and flashed them a dazzling smile. "Just in time. Can one of you boys help me out over here?"

MacCready took the bottle of whiskey from Hancock's hands. "You're taller," he offered simply, tipping his head in her direction before stalking off to find some glasses.

"Thank you," River breathed as Hancock crossed the room toward her.

"Happy to help," he purred, watching the way she shuddered in response. He didn't break eye contact as he reached up to grab the candles for her, and she nibbled her bottom lip when he pressed them into her hands. He leaned closer, backing her up against the garage wall. Her breath caught in her throat, a hungry, impatient little sound, even after being fucked by MacCready earlier _. Insatiable little firecracker_. He caught her chin in his hand, tracing his thumb over her bottom lip, and groaned when she lapped at him with her tongue.

"How 'bout those drinks?" She was smiling beneath his thumb, and reluctantly, he backed away. She sauntered like a cat over to the couch, where MacCready was pouring her drink.

"You are absolute perfection," she sighed lovingly, lowering herself down next to him. The Nuka Cherry was still cold from the ice box, sugary on her tongue when she took a sip with the bitter heat of quality whiskey underneath. Then MacCready kissed her, tongue dipping into her mouth to chase the sweetness there.

"Good?" he asked, his breath cool against the corner of her mouth.

"Amazing."

Hancock dropped down onto the couch beside them, throwing an arm casually over the back. She glanced at MacCready, who chuckled and nodded, then swiped the bottle up into her slender hand and clambered over onto Hancock's lap.

"Good stuff you brought, John," she approved, offering him the bottle.

He took a long swig, and she watched his throat move from under heavy lids when he swallowed. "Only the best for you, kitten." Her cheeks went pink, lips parting like an invitation, and he laughed knowingly under his breath. Addicting, all the little reactions he seemed to be able to coax out of her. "Candles, huh?" he asked at the sound of a flip lighter. MacCready was lighting them on the coffee table behind River's back, a smirk on his face.

"I'm a bit of a romantic," she admitted with a coy smile. "And I thought you boys deserve a little romance."

There were those words again, _you boys_ , and when she said it like that it sounded suspiciously like _my boys._ And the worst fucking part was that he _liked it._ Didn't seem to bother MacCready much either, as he caught one of her hands and brushed his lips over her knuckles before getting up to turn the harsh overhead lights off.

River pressed her lips to the edge of Hancock's jaw. He could smell vanilla and cigarette smoke in her hair, feel the smooth skin of her thighs beneath his hands. "Did you take anything?" She sounded more curious than judgmental, her voice muted and soft.

"Sober as a judge." He threaded his fingers through the silk of her hair, trying to remember if he'd ever felt anything so soft before. "Didn't want to forget a thing."

"You won't," she promised, and then she kissed him, so gentle, as if he couldn't feel the heat and need that lingered below the surface. He caught her face in his hands, parting her lips with his, and his tongue running along her bottom lip was all it took to provoke the hellfire he'd heard in her screams earlier. Her teeth nipped him punishingly, just hard enough to hurt, and he savored the sting and the sweetness of her drink he could still taste on her lips.

She felt his laughter like a rumble deep in his chest. "You're gonna be trouble, too, aren't you?" she mused. MacCready laughed, on the other side of the couch from them, but Hancock couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

"I thought you liked trouble," MacCready teased. He still tasted of whiskey when she leaned over to kiss him, one of his hands securing a fistful of her hair. Hancock's fingers inched up her thighs, toward the curve of her ass, and she mewled, sinking down harder onto him. RJ trapped her jaw in his hand, studying the facets of her face intently. His hand closed around her throat - a warning, or a promise, or something twisted in between - and the sigh that eased from between her lips was nothing short of musical. "Don't feel obligated to take it easy on her, Hancock," he advised with amusement. "She rarely deserves it."

"Trouble," she accused him in a snarl, above the sound of Hancock's chuckle. She pushed herself back into the ghoul's lap, draping her arms around his neck. His mouth was on her in a second, warm suction over the sensitive skin of her throat. Then she felt the blunt edge of his teeth, and she couldn't help the cry she let loose.

Hancock hummed thoughtfully, lapping at the spot where he'd bitten her. "Like it rough, do you? Why am I not surprised?"

She squirmed at the sound of his voice, and he tensed his legs, pulling her down against the erection trapped beneath his pants. "Jesus, John," she breathed, rolling her hips reflexively.

"Been thinking about you all day," he confessed roughly, his mouth trailing lower, down her collarbone to the dip between her breasts. "You look so damn good when you come."

He fisted a hand in her hair, holding her steady so his mouth could learn the lines of her body, didn't miss how she moaned and wriggled appealingly in response. His free hand slid up the bottom of her dress, and it felt so fucking good to finally be touching her, feeling her muscles move and tense beneath his fingers. They really didn't make 'em like her anymore, and it was a damn shame for everyone else, but his hands were full of River and he was feeling mighty glad to be himself at the moment.

MacCready had offered to give Hancock a few pointers earlier, claiming if anyone should come with instructions, it was River, but he was glad now that he'd turned him down. It was much more fun to discover what turned her on in her every reaction, the wide, dilated black of her pupils when he sank his teeth into her skin, or the way his voice made her grind harder against him. She was addictively responsive, and he could really get used to this, having such a beautiful woman react so strongly to his every touch. Could probably go clean for months with her sexy little noises as a substitute. . . _Maybe I'm getting a little ahead of myself._

River slid off of his lap to grab her drink, and he already missed the pressure of her weight on him, though watching her bend over to pick up her glass was certainly a treat. MacCready caught her between his legs, pressing kisses to her hip bones. His hand hunted up between her thighs and he hissed a curse when he felt how slick she was. Her grip on the glass trembled as she tried to take another sip, made increasingly difficult by MacCready sliding his fingers over her sensitive folds. "Finish your drink, angel. Then I think Hancock should see how wet you are."

River smiled, half embarrassed, half exhilarated. She tipped her head back and killed the rest of her drink with shocking efficiency. Then she grimaced, handing the glass off to a laughing MacCready. "God, haven't chugged a drink like that since college . . . definitely not hard liquor, either." She steadied herself against Hancock's shoulder and grinned down at him. "Will you help me to bed?"

He rose to his feet, sweeping her easily up over his shoulder. She shrieked and giggled, clutching frantically at him for balance, cursing him when he laughed. "John! Put me down!" He dropped her onto the bed, catching her flailing legs and dragging her bodily toward him. She stopped squirming when his lips seared her ankle, watching in fascination as he dragged his mouth up the curve of her leg.

Hancock shrugged impatiently out of his coat, tossing the tricorn aside. "Wanted to taste you all fucking day," he groaned before shoving her dress up over her hips. She wore nothing underneath, and the sight of her smooth, bare sex, glistening with arousal, brought him to his knees. "Jesus." He nipped at one of her soft thighs, heard her sharp intake of breath in response. "You have the most beautiful pussy I've ever seen."

River moaned, bucking her hips anxiously.

"Oh, so you don't mind it when he says it," MacCready teased, and Hancock only just realized he'd been standing at the foot of the bed, gazing appreciatively down at her.

"S'different," was the best explanation she could offer, bordering on incoherence. She parted her lips for him and he granted her two of his fingers, smirking when he felt her tongue stroke lovingly around them.

Watching them together was almost as arousing as touching her himself, a strange and thrilling realization Hancock would have to think about later. Right now, he could focus on nothing but her open legs and the treasure in between. She yelped as if he'd branded her when his mouth closed over her sex. She felt like honey and fire on his tongue, gasping his name like a mantra, and the smoke of her voice around the heavy syllable was intoxicating.

MacCready leaned down over the footboard to kiss her. Her fingers gripped clumsily at his hair, body arching after each sharp wave of pleasure. He cradled her face, taking in the ecstasy etched across her delicate features. She was writhing and keening, moaning on every breath, a tantalizing sound he recognized well. "Are you gonna come already?" he wondered around a smile.

"It's Ha-Hancock," she groaned, throwing her head back. "He's gonna - _fuck_ \- gonna eat me alive." Her fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles white. Hancock's hands were hard and rough at her hips, keeping her pinned while she bucked and shook beneath his touch. His tongue stroked her precisely, insistently, mercilessly, like he'd touched her a thousand times before and knew every centimeter of her body; like the secrets to world peace were locked away somewhere tight and her climax was the key; like he was a starving man and she was the last thing he would ever taste.

 _This is it. This might be how I die._

River stared up at RJ, his eyes crinkled as he smiled, and as far as last things to see before you die went, that one was perfect. She could barely keep her eyes open anymore as the waves of pleasure washed over her with each hungry, insistent pass of Hancock's tongue over her clit. She wasn't surprised he was so good at this - he did have something of a reputation, after all - but having a hunch about something and experiencing it were, in this case, two entirely different things.

Then she felt a long, rough finger sliding down between her folds, threatening to push into her.

"Pleasepleaseplease," River begged him. She could hear RJ's laughter, floating somewhere above her, could feel his hand sliding up her ribs. Hancock tugged her closer, his mouth working with almost religious devotion, and she was so fucking wound up from their attention, her orgasm was on her like an ambush. She clutched blindly at RJ's arm, thighs squeezing around Hancock's head. His tongue made ruthless circles, forcing her under the crashing waves of her release. He slid two fingers into her and she could faintly register the anguished sound he made as he felt her tighten around them. She realized past the bursts of white behind her eyelids that she was screaming. The sound died off when the last few twitches of pleasure were fading from her body, and she fell back limp against the mattress.

 _La petite mort._

The words appeared, unexpectedly, in the hazy fog of her thoughts, carried on a memory she hadn't thought of in centuries.

 _Nate's laughter, low and warm, always warm. "What's that now?"_

 _Leon's slender, skilled fingers - pianist's fingers - trailing down the sweat on her body. "La petite mort. Literally, it means 'the little death.' It's a way to describe an orgasm . . . or that mindless bliss afterwards. Are you feeling that now, little River?"_

She was a lucky little lady to have known those two men. And the luckiest woman of all time to have the two currently staring down at her in concern. RJ was sitting next to her, running his hand soothingly over her hair. When she opened her eyes, he smiled in relief. "Thought he might've broken you for a second there."

"I'm okay," she assured him, sitting up gingerly on her elbows.

"Goddamn, you're sweet." Hancock peppered gentle kisses down her thigh, lifting the remains of a brow at her. "Stop and take a breath if you need it, kitten. We got all night."

But River was already pulling RJ closer, kissing him hungrily. He'd been extraordinarily patient, despite the erection she could feel pressing against her thigh. She tugged his shirt up over his head and cried out in protest when he yanked the buttons of her dress open. "I'll buy you a new one," RJ promised against her throat. His hands found her hips and flipped her over onto her knees as if she weighed nothing at all. She gasped when she felt his fingers shove into her, gently at first, and then harder, with purpose.

"Shit," she whined, her arms nearly giving out beneath her. "Fuck, John, get on this bed before he makes me actually pass out."

Hancock chuckled and kicked his boots off before settling onto the bed in front of her. River slid his belt free, and then her deft little fingers were wrapping around him and his head fell back, a low hiss between his teeth. "God, you're rough," she breathed, running her hands experimentally over the patchwork skin of his cock. The skin there was mostly intact, save for a few delicious grooves she felt beneath her fingers. "I bet you feel amazing." She didn't need to be more specific; he knew exactly what she meant.

"Never had any complaints," he offered with the cheekiest grin he could summon when she was squeezing him like that.

"Slut."

The sound of his laughter melted into a hoarse moan as she dipped her head to take him into her mouth. He was long, longer than RJ - which was a fucking achievement, really - but thinner at least, and just feeling his length in her hands was already making her anxious. RJ's hands slipped down her thighs, easing her legs further apart, and then she felt the head of his cock prodding at her. She nearly saw stars when he thrust in, slowly, and somehow she always forgot how perfectly he filled her.

"Oh, fuck." River clung to Hancock's shoulders for support, savoring the delicious burn of RJ's cock stretching her. The first time he slid in was always the sweetest, like a miracle, like coming home. With Hancock's breath at her ear, and his rough hands sliding over her skin, all the sensation was overwhelming.

The ghoul sucked and bit at her throat, stroking his thumbs over her pert nipples. "You like it when he fucks you, River?"

"God, yes," she groaned, rocking against Hancock with each lazy thrust of RJ's hips. Every time he reached the hilt, it forced some desperate, pathetic noise out of her that she couldn't seem to control. She trailed her mouth over Hancock's neck, her fingers moving clumsily down his shirt. "Fuck, baby," she hissed back at RJ when he started to fuck her harder.

She could hear his laughter behind her, short and tense. The fingers of one hand dug into her hip, the other dancing down the curve of her spine. "Want me to stop?"

River pushed back against him, cherished the grunt it coaxed out of him. "Not a chance."

"That's what I thought." His hand trailed up her back to gather her hair in his fist. The sting forced her head back, exposing more of her throat to Hancock's mouth and teeth. She wished that she could see him fucking her, the hard lines of his body, the muscles in his forearm clenching as he pulled at her hair. But Hancock's appreciative stare was a hell of an alternative, a hunger in his eyes that threatened to devour her from the inside out. She met the heat of his gaze with her own while her hands worked his cock, drawing hoarse growls and curses from deep in his throat. Where teasing RJ made her feel strong and beautiful and in control, with Hancock it felt faintly dangerous, like if she pressed too hard she might provoke something dark and thrilling.

River rather liked dark and thrilling.

"Fuck, he feels so good," she breathed, her lips at Hancock's ear. "Gonna tear me in half."

"Sounds like you might like that," he rasped, and then pinched one of her nipples between two of his fingers, the sharp pain making her yelp. RJ released his grip on her hair to hold her hips steady and her head fell forward against Hancock's shoulder. Her eyes drifted closed, her mind trying to process all the different, overlapping layers of pain and pleasure.

"Stay with me, now," Hancock rumbled, amusement and the hint of a warning in his voice. "I haven't even gotten started with you." He took hold of her hair and listened to her pleased sigh in response. "You know, you're not the delicate little pre-war thing I thought you were. You like a little pain, don't you?" His hand tugged experimentally at her hair, making her cry out, but she leaned into his touch all the same. He rewarded her a wicked grin. "You're even more fun than I thought you'd be."

River claimed his mouth aggressively, hungrily, her tongue sliding against his, before she lowered herself onto her elbows. He kept a firm grip of her hair as she closed her lips around his length, her tongue working him expertly, muscle memory she'd been perfecting over the past few months with the man currently fucking her from behind, now so hard and fast she had to hold onto Hancock's legs for support. She eased her mouth further down his cock, feeling him press at the back of her throat. This was always the hardest part, but she was River fucking Bautista, sole survivor of Vault 111, hero of the Commonwealth, and she wasn't gonna let a little thing like her gag reflex stop her from making Hancock forget every woman who had ever done this for him before.

"Fuck," he groaned, watching her lips with rapt attention. Every centimeter more of him she took felt like a tiny victory, his ragged breathing, the way his fist tightened in her hair.

Suddenly RJ chuckled again behind her, pausing for a moment to take in what must've been a hell of a sight in front of him. "Told ya," he boasted before another sharp thrust into her that made her knees weak.

River peered questioningly up at Hancock. He tipped her chin up with a finger, bucking slowly up into her mouth, savoring her muffled moan around his sensitive flesh.

"MacCready's a show-off," he explained with a smirk. "Can't blame him when his lady gives the best head in the whole 'Wealth."

River rolled skeptical eyes up his way, dragging her tongue up the length of his cock as she pulled off him. "Liar."

"You're just gonna have to take my word for it." Hancock watched her from under heavy lids. Loved that smirk on her face, and that devilish mouth, swollen and wet, and her tight little fist around the base of his cock. She looked fucking wild and absolutely breathtaking. Every now and then her eyes rolled back a little, shuddering in the lulls between each time MacCready rammed into her. Kid looked pleased, and a little amused - something was always fucking funny to MacCready - grabbing at River's hips and trailing his nails down her back, making her arch and mewl beneath him.

River took Hancock into her mouth again, tight heat and suction that made his head swim. Every little sound she made hummed like a heartbeat around him, lower and lower the deeper she got. Her hands curled into fists, nails clawing him through the material of his pants, and he could see tears squeeze out from the ends of her eyes. But still she persisted, breathing hard through her nose, slowly, _inhale, exhale_ , another inch, another skip in Hancock's pulse. She held him there for a long moment until suddenly she gagged and pulled away, muffling a cough into the back of her wrist.

MacCready pulled out hardly a second later, brows pushed down in concern. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she assured them both. She turned to smile at MacCready over her shoulder, shaking her hips invitingly. "I can take it."

"Tell me if you can't," he told her, his voice low and serious, pressing his hand tenderly to her face.

"Promise." River kissed his fingers, and for the first time that night Hancock felt a little out of place, like an outsider peeking in. He looked away, casting his eyes around the dark garage, to the coffee table where the candles were burning down to the wood.

"Don't tell me I'm boring you already, John." River was touching him again, the moment evidently over, sliding down onto her elbows to kiss the tip of his cock. She was damn good at that, swaying the people around her with a few easy words, like she could see straight through Hancock to the root of his discomfort and knew just what to say to dispel it. A soft, pre-war bombshell like her didn't have many advantages in a ruined world, but she wielded her words and that scrumptious mouth they came out of like weapons. Wasn't too bad with a rifle, either, from what he'd seen in their travels together. Really was the perfect woman if he thought about it - one in a million - beautiful, deadly, fucking sexual as all hell. Dangerous thoughts to have about a woman that wasn't his. . . . but maybe he wouldn't mind being hers.

Think about that later. "Couldn't if you tried, kitten," Hancock promised, smirking down at her. "Figured the dick in your hand would be proof enough."

River laughed, that sensual, breathy fricative over and over, so sweet he already wanted another hit of it. "Potty mouth."

"Only 'cause you like it so much." He nipped at the flesh of her jaw, planted kisses up to the shell of her ear. "Want me to tell you all the things I wanna do to you?" When she shivered, he pressed on, giving her no chance to recover. MacCready lined himself up behind her and slid in again, her face twisting up in response, half pleasure half relief, like he was soothing some ache deep in that perfect body of hers. "I want to fill up that sweet little cunt of yours. Want to feel you come around me. Make you scream my name so loud the whole fuckin' Commonwealth'll hear ya."

His voice at her ear and MacCready pounding into her had River coming hard and fast between them. "Fuckfuckfu-ahhh!" Her words tapered off into a shrill scream, body tensing and convulsing against Hancock as her orgasm overwhelmed her. She gripped his thighs for support, lips parted around the enticing sound of her falling apart, he could listen to it for the rest of his days and never get over it. MacCready hunched over, thrusting into her a few more times before he followed after.

"Fuck," he groaned, pulling out with a tired chuckle. He laid a quick smack to River's ass before climbing unsteadily off the bed. "You okay here for a sec?"

"I think I can keep busy."

River shrugged out of her ruined dress, holding it between her legs to catch the remains of RJ's orgasm. Hancock didn't seem turned off at all. She could feel his eyes roaming the expanse of her naked body as she rolled onto her back. He moved over her with the coiled grace of a predator - a dangerous man who knew his strength and just how he wanted to use it on her. He caught her ankles and dragged her closer, her legs spilling over his lap. He ripped the dress from her grip and threw it dismissively over his shoulder, drinking in the sight of her laid out before him.

"You're the best damn thing I've seen in a long, long time," Hancock confessed, his voice dark and rough, that rasp that moved like a caress over her skin. She licked her lips, nibbled the bottom one, flashed him a smile. His answering grin was wolfish, almost menacing. Lazily, like he had all the time in the world, he pulled his shirt up over his head. She took in every line of his chest, wondering vaguely how fucking good it was going to feel against her. He was all lean muscle and taut, patchwork skin, foreign and new but not unappealing. And his cock standing tall and erect between her knees was the cherry on top.

Evidently Hancock decided he'd had enough of looking, shifting into position over her. He kissed her first, a harsh press of lips and tongue. His teeth stung her jaw, then her throat, then the swell of a breast. She whimpered when she felt his tongue circle a nipple, hungry and determined, like he wouldn't be done with her until he'd exhausted every damn nerve in her body. Meanwhile she could feel his hands on her hips, guiding her legs up around his waist.

River shuddered at the first feel of him, sliding languidly over her silky folds. Just that simple touch felt like lightning and fire after her earlier orgasms. She measured her breathing, tried to focus on every little sensation, every place where his body met hers, and when she opened her eyes, Hancock was watching her with some interest.

"Keep those pretty eyes open for me, yeah?"

She gasped and nodded, leaving her eyes obediently on his as he started to push into her. He chuckled when they rolled back a little and she had to fight to stay focused, but every centimeter more of him she took was somehow infinitely sweeter than the last. He was deep and getting deeper, and she'd been wrong earlier; _this,_ now, was going to tear her in half, and it wouldn't make for the greatest etching on her tombstone, but it would be a hell of a way to go.

Hancock's hand caught her jaw, angled her head back before shifting over the base of her throat. "How - ?" was the last sound that made it out before he squeezed, hard, just short of cutting off her air supply. She felt the familiar pounding pressure in her head as her lungs struggled for air, every sensation intensified in the wake of that searing burn.

"Had a hunch," he rumbled, cursing when her walls clenched around his cock, thighs urging him closer. "Fuck, you're tight. Christ." He hadn't even made it all the way in before he pulled himself back out, and feeling every rough inch of him drag past her sensitive walls was a new form of sensory torture.

River's hands flexed - she needed to fill them with something. She clawed at his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, and his hips bucked a little harder, filling her up near to burst.

"Scratch me up all you like, little kitten. I can take it."

She would've laughed if he didn't have a death grip around her throat. She'd never been one for pet names really, but somehow that one hit her in all the right places - deep down, she suspected it had more to do with the voice that carried it than the word itself. All she knew for certain was her mouth was watering, and if he said he could take it, she wasn't going to doubt him. He grunted when her teeth clamped down on his shoulder, but it didn't slow the determined rhythm his hips were making. He released her throat in favor of bracing himself against the mattress, letting his other hand wander all over her flushed body.

"Didn't miss anything good, did I?"

River's head lolled back and she could see RJ leaning against the wall in his underwear. He winked at her, smirking around a cigarette, looking every sort of cocky and delicious.

"Won't be long now," Hancock shot back, giving a hard thrust that forced a cry from River's throat. She bit him again, hard this time, and he muffled a guttural moan into the curve of her throat.

"Forgot to mention she fights back," RJ interjected helpfully, flopping down onto the couch. "But don't let her fool you, arrogance really turns her on." Then he chuckled, almost thoughtfully. "What doesn't, though, right?"

River freed Hancock's neck from between her teeth to shoot RJ a scowl across the room. "You better watch your mouth, Robert Joseph." She wished Hancock didn't feel so fucking good inside of her. . . the pleasure on her face and shaking through her voice surely took some of the intimidation out of her threat.

"Oh, yeah?" He blew smoke her way, lifting a skeptical brow. "Whatcha gonna do if I don't?"

" _Son of a bitch_ ," River replied menacingly, struggling to focus past the blinding heat and pressure building deep in the pit of her belly. "I'm gonna - I'm gonna - fuck I'm gonna come."

Vaguely she registered the sound of RJ's smug laughter. Hancock shifted one of her legs over his shoulder, angled himself deeper, and he was all she could see and feel and hear past the swell of sensation he painted like a work of art over her skin - his lips and teeth at her shoulder, his hands like brush strokes over her breasts, down her ribs, at the slick flesh of her sex, stretching around his cock.

River clung helplessly to Hancock's shoulders as she came unraveled, releasing his name in a piercing scream, just like he'd promised. His hips slowed at the feeling of her clamping down tight around him, his voice guiding her like a lighthouse through the waves of her climax.

"That's right, kitten. Fuck, you're gorgeous when you come. Like fuckin' heaven around me."

Eventually the twinges of pleasure tapered off, leaving River gasping and boneless in their wake. Hancock was grinning triumphantly down at her, and she noted with some satisfaction that he was looking a little breathless himself.

RJ admired her from under heavy lids, palming the erection now straining in his underwear.

"You got one more in you, baby?" Her voice was throaty from all the screaming, but he seemed to like it. She laughed at the sight of his eager smile. "Not that you deserve it. Maybe I should make you sit there all alone while I finish off John."

Amusement and frustration warred over his handsome features, an expression she absolutely loved on him. She knew RJ's hungers as well as her own by now. Where she craved pain - teeth and nails, a fist in her hair or around her throat - he sometimes craved the all-consuming frenzy of being denied. Made it all the sweeter when she finally gave him what he wanted - that slim, terrifying chance that this time she might decide not to.

River moved to the edge of the bed, and the way RJ was looking at her made her feel fucking amazing, powerful, unstoppable, like the world started and ended in the crystal blue of his gaze, and as long as she had him, nothing could slow her down. Hancock knelt down behind her, steadying her hips with his hands.

"Touch yourself for me, baby," she urged RJ, and she couldn't keep how badly she wanted to see it out of her voice even if she tried. The sound of it seemed to win him over. He freed himself from his underwear and she moaned at the sight of him, already so hard for her again - the man's stamina was a fucking miracle, certainly more than a woman like her deserved. She'd loved RJ's cock from the first moment she laid eyes on it - thick, long, and beautiful, a masterpiece, really, and her heart seemed to skip a beat when he wrapped one of those hands she always admired around the base of it. A whimper escaped from between her teeth and the bottom lip they bit down into.

Hancock spread her with his fingers, pausing to brush his rough knuckles over her sensitive clit before driving into her again, slowly, growling under his breath _, she was so good, she was perfect, how was she so fucking tight?_ He made it all the way in, until his hips hit the back of her ass, and she was so fucking full it was almost hard to breathe. Suddenly Hancock brought a hand down hard on the curve of her hip and she cried out, coaxing a groan out of him when she pulsed reflexively around him. He chuckled deviously. "You mark up real nice." He soothed the handprint starting to form over her pale skin with his hand, making her mewl and push back against him.

River couldn't take her eyes off of RJ. He stroked himself slowly, almost defiantly so - he'd do it for her, but he'd do it his way, like always. _Fucking brat_. He smirked as if he could read her mind, then blew her a kiss - absolutely adorable and utterly absurd. Her heart gave a sudden squeeze, reminding her how much she loved him and all of his defiance. RJ licked his palm and then gripped the head of his cock, exhaling heavily as he pushed up into his fist.

 _Jesus, I should've had him do this months ago._ She couldn't put her finger on what made it so damn arousing, the man she loved touching himself for her. Maybe it was a power trip thing, some dominance she secretly craved, possibly some latent pre-war insecurities coming to the surface. Either way, it was a treat she'd have to remember for later.

Hancock spanked her again, hard enough to draw a pathetic whimper out of her. It was a different kind of pain, white hot and itching under her skin, but his touch over the abused flesh afterward felt soft as velvet. He manipulated her body with an easy expertise that still somehow left her flushed and wanting, after so many orgasms she'd lost track by now, which was her new favorite problem to have.

"River. . . ."

The sound of RJ's voice so throaty and pained around her name like that sent shivers down her spine. He gripped himself tighter now, his hand moving with more purpose, and she could hear the urgency in his every breath. She couldn't resist him when he was so desperate and wanting. "Come here."

He was on his feet in an instant, crossing the room toward her. She smiled and planted kisses along the flat planes of his stomach, trailing downward. Hancock slowed the pace of his thrusts to watch in interest as she reached the base of RJ's cock and dragged the heat of her mouth up his length. RJ tenderly brushed her hair back from her face, gazing down at her with admiration in his eyes. She knew every inch of him, had no trouble taking him as deep as he would go. She heard all the breath leave him in an incredulous groan, like every time was the first time and he couldn't believe it was really happening. For all his arrogance and sarcasm, RJ really could be the most precious thing she'd ever seen.

She caught a flash of motion in her peripheral vision and glanced up to see RJ gesturing at Hancock over her back. Moments later her unspoken question was answered when Hancock's hand came hunting down the side of her hip, over her tensing thigh to the slick flesh between her legs.

 _Fuckin' trouble, the both of them._

River released all but the head of RJ's cock, suckling softly before sliding back down. He muffled swear words under his breath, bucking uncontrollably into the back of her throat. He'd been so sweet to arrange this all for her, and she really wanted to make it up to him, but Hancock was as good with his hands as he was with his mouth and his cock, and having two of the three on and in her at the same time was making it increasingly difficult to stay focused. His fingers made torturous circles around the sensitive bead of her clitoris, stroked sideways lovingly over it, then dipped down to brush up over it from below. She would've been screeching and whining if her mouth wasn't so busy, but RJ didn't seem to mind all the noises and vibration. He gathered her hair into a tight grip, and she relaxed into his hold, flashing him a passive glance and letting him lead her. She could practically hear the smirk in his every breath as he slid deeper into her throat.

Feeding into his arrogance was almost as sexy as watching it crumble.

River braced a hand against RJ's hip, feeling his muscles tense and move beneath her palm. It was getting difficult to measure her breathing and keep herself calm, with the head of his cock filling her throat while Hancock thrust deep into her, his fingers coaxing her steadily toward another orgasm.

She traced her fingertips down the slope of RJ's thigh, where it curved into his groin, and he shuddered beneath her touch. He'd already come, he was going to be stubborn now, but River knew all the things he loved, and she could be very, very determined when it came to pleasing him. She swallowed, her throat squeezing tight around the length of his cock and he let out a strangled noise, his fingers clumsily pushing her hair back from her face.

Hancock dug his fingers into her hips, and each time he slid into her, heat spread like a wildfire through her body. "You're holdin' out on me," he accused her gruffly.

River sucked hard as she pulled off of RJ's cock, teasing another groan out of him. "I'm trying to focus," she complained at Hancock over her shoulder.

"I don't want you focused." He thrust in as deep as he could go, grinding his hips against her and toying with her slick bud. "I want you fuckin' fallin' apart."

"I can't - that's not - mmn, god, yes, keep doing that." She arched her hips back against him, chasing the rough pads of his fingers. "Fuck!" Her fingers curled into the sheets, thighs trembling as she teetered on the edge of another release. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Hancock choked out a laugh, thrusting steadily until she came. She didn't scream this time, couldn't put her throat through any more abuse, just panted and whimpered her way through climax. Hancock groaned behind her. "Fuck you get so tight." He slowed his pace, savoring the sweet resistance each time he drove back into her. His fingers traced the curve of her spine, dragging over sweat-damp skin, smoothest thing he'd felt in years. River finally stopped squeezing around him, slick heat sliding down her shaking thighs.

She was determined as all hell, though, an absolute marvel, lifting herself up on unstable arms to kiss the head of MacCready's cock. Hancock wondered how the kid summoned up the will to ever leave this room. He could've spent the rest of eternity here fucking River, watching her unravel again and again, listening to the symphony of her cries; and she worked him with such _devotion_ , like she'd live out her last hours sucking him off if it meant making him come one more time.

Her lips moved searchingly down the side of RJ's cock, tongue laving the sensitive skin around the base of his length. He breathed her name with a reverence normally reserved for prayer, the sound morphing into a curse when she glanced up at him from under the weight of his cock. He'd never get over the sight of her like this, bare and vulnerable and utterly _his,_ even as another man fucked her. He grabbed her hair in his fist, guiding her back to the tip of his cock so he could ease back into her mouth. She took him eagerly, like she'd been waiting for him to take control, a rather new and exhilarating concept he'd have to explore a little later, when they had some time alone. He felt more than heard the moan at the back of her throat when Hancock bottomed out, his wide hands palming her hips to keep her steady.

"Fuck, beautiful." RJ braced his legs against the edge of the bed when they started to feel weak beneath him. The tight, wet heat of her mouth was probably the best thing to ever exist in the world, probably the universe. "You're so fucking good."

Hancock laughed, the sound sending chills down her spine. "Always figured she could make you cuss."

RJ met her gaze, read the knowing arrogance in the gold of her eyes. "She could make me do anything," he said breathlessly, with all the conviction of a universal truth. He inched further past her lips, as deep as he could go into the tight grasp of her throat. He felt her tongue stroking lovingly the underside of his cock, a reward, maybe, for his devotion, or perhaps the fervor with which he'd professed it. He loved her intensely, unconditionally, and he knew she would never tire of hearing it.

There was something liberating about being spread open between two men, feeling their hands moving over her like a tide, similar yet separate entities, all overwhelming her with sensation. It was that intoxicating contradiction of powerful and powerless, being suspended somewhere in between, that melted the stress from her body like it had never been there at all.

RJ pulled himself free from her lips, catching a stray tear that spilled down her cheek on his index finger. "Let's move you, angel."

Hancock picked her up just as easily as before, shifting her flat onto her stomach, mindful of the strain on her knees. His fingers dug expertly into her shoulders, eliciting a soft hiss of appreciation, kneaded the tension from the muscles down her back. He straddled her legs, hips slotted behind the tempting curve of her ass. His cock slid easily between the slick flesh of her thighs and back into her tight heat. She gasped, hands gripping the bed sheets, body stiffening up at the sweet intrusion.

RJ came around in front of her and settled with his legs on either side of her. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, gazing up at him from under her lashes. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion, lips swollen and wet. He caught her jaw in his hand and held her there, savoring the pleasure that played across her features, Hancock a dark shape of rocking motion in his peripheral. She licked at his thumb until he pushed it between her teeth, feeling her tongue caress the pad of his finger. He groaned, heard her mewl around his thumb in response. She released his finger with one last gentle kiss before gripping one of his wrists and placing it at the nape of her neck - held it there until his fingers took firm hold of her hair. Keeping the honey amber of her eyes on him, she lowered her lips to the head of his cock, so close he could feel her breath ghosting over the sensitive tip.

"RJ," she breathed, tongue flashing out to stroke the end of his cock. The edge of her lips curled up into a wicked smile. "I'm yours. _Use me_."

His mouth went dry with a sudden swell of anticipation. He urged her closer by the hair, until her mouth seared the tip of his cock, and then he guided her deeper. His hips jerked instinctively up into the tight grip of her mouth around him, as rough as he dared be without hurting her. She rolled skeptical eyes up his eyes, a challenge in her dilated pupils.

He'd played this game with her before, the how-much-can-River-take game; sometimes she caved quickly, graciously allowed him to please her and take it easy on her; other times she would make him push her to the very brink of what she could endure, until she almost didn't have the energy to cry mercy.

River hummed and whimpered around him, encouraging, sinful little noises, so he pushed deeper into her throat, until he could feel her lips at the base of his cock. Her fingers followed the upward slope of his thigh and cradled the aching weight of his balls, filling his belly with a pressing, ravenous heat.

His head fell back with a clang against the headboard, so loud Hancock looked up from his hands, filled with River's ass.

"Goddamn," the ghoul rasped, landing an appreciative spank on one of her reddened cheeks. He braced his hands on either side of her and leaned forward until he could feel every delicious wriggle of her body beneath him. Her legs shifted open, allowing him to thrust deeper. He stifled his moan into the smooth skin of her back, closed his teeth around the curve of a shoulder. When his hand slid between her and the bedsheets, an awkward reach under their combined weight, her hips jerked back against him. He stroked her pert nipples, releasing her skin from between his teeth only to rumble filthy words in her ear.

"How does it feel, little kitten?" He nipped at her shoulder blades, felt her shudder beneath his lips. "My cock all the way inside you like this?"

The sound she made was somewhere between a groan and a snarl, hard to tell with MacCready's dick in her mouth. She was probably still pissed at him for breaking her focus - but definitely also turned on, judging from the wet sound every time he hilted in her, the silky feel of her arousal on his cock, dripping down onto his thigh.

Hancock trailed his hand down the hard planes of River's stomach, past her dewy curls to where her body parted around him. Her breath hitched, released in a puff of hot air against RJ's skin. He teased her with short, shallow thrusts, fingers finding once more her aching clitoris, now so raw and swollen the contact drew an agonized whimper from deep in her throat. "You're gonna look so damn good full of my cum."

He heard her sharp intake of breath and felt her body start to tremble beneath him. "I know, kitten," he panted, digging his fingers into her hips, almost hard enough to bruise. "You're so fuckin' sweet. Be a good girl and come one more time for me, sweetheart."

River clawed at RJ's thighs, throat full and contracting around his cock. Hancock was wreaking havoc over her raw skin, thrusting into her so deeply and roughly she thought she might literally shatter into pieces. RJ sighed and moaned and cursed under his breath, all of the sweet sounds she loved hearing from him. She was usually the one reduced to a stream of mindless nonsense, but when it was him it hit her ear like music: " _So good, so perfect, beautiful River, fuck._ "

Behind her, she could hear Hancock's labored breathing, the slick sound of his cock driving repeatedly into her, faster now, his thrusts growing erratic. She angled her hips as high as she could lift them after so much activity, groaned around the thick base of RJ's cock when Hancock snapped his hips flat against hers and bottomed out.

She didn't have much time left - this last orgasm Hancock was so diligently trying to work out of her was going to leave her sobbing and useless. She swallowed, breathing hard through her nose past the sensation of RJ so deep down her throat. Then she dragged her lips a few inches up, gripping the last stretch of him in her fist. She worked her hands and mouth in tandem, free hand trailing teasing caresses over the sensitive skin of his thighs.

 _Come on, baby_. She glanced up at his face, ecstasy etched into every line, lips parting around his clenched teeth. He met her gaze, pupils blown out and wild, releasing her name on a strangled breath. His hands tightened in her hair and then his hips thrust deep into her mouth as he came. She moaned, feeling him throb and erupt between her lips. His hips quivered beneath her hands as she swallowed the last few pulses of his orgasm. She loved him, loved this, loved the way his voice broke apart into that frayed, hoarse cry, loved the bitter taste at the back of her tongue. His hands gentled in her hair, body going limp after his climax.

Hancock wasted no time. He yanked her closer to him by the hips, flipping her bodily onto her back. His hand curled around the back of her neck and guided her into a rough kiss, all clashing teeth and his tongue pushing past her swollen lips. If he could still taste RJ there, he didn't seem to mind, just cradled her head in the rough palm of his hand and slowed to a deep, unhurried pace.

"Please," River whimpered in between biting kisses. "Please."

He smirked, sucking another bruise into the arching pillar of her throat. "What do you need, kitten?"

She shuddered and shook in his arms, strung tight like a wire, seconds from either another intense orgasm or losing consciousness entirely. Words were difficult to pin down in the dark haze of pleasure, weighing down her thoughts. She could think of only one, and she held fast to it like an anchor, grounding her somewhere among all the sensation that threatened to overload her nerves.

"Mercy," she pleaded.

Hancock shifted her legs up over his shoulders, pushing in deep and watching her eyes roll back into her head. Her nails bit into his sides like teeth, one of her heels digging painfully into his spine, but he savored the ache; it was part of fucking her, and he wanted to enjoy the full experience.

"John. _John_." She was tensing and writhing beneath him, face screwing up as she danced along the edge of climax.

"Go on," he coaxed her, the words feeling heavy and clumsy in his mouth. He wasn't far off from his own orgasm, was pretty shocked he'd lasted this long in the first place, but River wasn't the type of woman you wanted to disappoint. "Let me see you come one more time."

MacCready stumbled to his feet and stood beside the bed, catching his breath. River gaped up at him with wide, shining eyes, mouth moving around voiceless pleas. He wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed, feeling it swell with her every breath. Tears ran in tracks of black mascara down her cheeks and she nodded, desperately, a whine of approval caught beneath his palm.

It didn't take long after that, a few more determined thrusts from Hancock, RJ murmuring softly to her under his breath, and then River shattered. She let loose one last shrill, arching cry that choked off into a gasp, hands fisting in the sheets. The clench and pull of her cunt as she came pushed Hancock over the edge and he burst with a low groan inside of her. He teased out the last few heated shocks of his climax with clumsy, erratic thrusts and then barely caught himself above her, his head spinning.

For a moment there was only the sound of them all trying to catch their breath. The garage was warm from their body heat, candles burned down to the wick on the coffee table.

River was the first to move, pushing weakly at Hancock's shoulders until he rolled off of her. Her thoughts were sluggish and sated, a sweet ache throbbing between her thighs. "Baby," she rasped hoarsely, reaching feebly for RJ.

He brushed his fingers down the line of her jaw, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. "Stay here, beautiful. We'll take care of you."

She had just enough energy left to smile up at him and weakly cup the hand that was cradling her face with her own.

Hancock planted one last kiss to her smooth shoulder, littered with bite marks from his teeth, before climbing gingerly to his feet. She heard them moving around the room, the rustle of fabric as they pulled on their clothing. They spoke to each other in low voices, but her mind was still working overtime trying to process all the sensation she'd just experienced, and she couldn't pick apart what they were saying.

Moments later one of them sat down behind her. It was RJ from the feel of his hands on her arms, helping her sit up against his chest. She peeled her eyes open and glared blearily at the can of purified water he was holding out in front of her. "Come on, beautiful, you should try to drink something."

Her hands shook around the can, but she managed to draw a few shallow ships, the cool water soothing her abused throat.

Hancock came back over with stimpaks, his pants sagging loosely around his hips. "You look like you've been through hell and back," he told her, something like pride in the rasp of his voice. His fingers ghosted appreciatively over a few of the marks his teeth and hands had left on her. "Pretty as you look like this, you're gonna hurt somethin' fierce in the morning." His hands were gentle as he applied the stimpaks, soothing over a bruise on her hip with a tender kiss.

Once River was healing up, RJ eased her back against the mattress. He pulled a blanket from her cabinet and draped it over her, tucking the sides in around her body. She coaxed him down into a tender, slow kiss. "Love you, baby," she slurred, feeling herself drift irrevocably toward sleep and knowing she didn't have much time left before it took hold of her.

"Always," he promised.

She stifled a yawn into the back of her hand, lifting her head to send Hancock one last tired smile. "Night, John."

"Get some sleep, sweetheart."

They left her slumbering deeply on the bed, retreating out into the cool night air. MacCready lit a cigarette for himself and then tossed the pack to Hancock. They smoked in silence, the wordless camaraderie of two men who had just made love to the same woman.

MacCready finally cleared his throat, breaking the stillness. "So. . . ."

"Yeah," Hancock replied absently.

"Bed's obviously big enough for three, if you want to stick around. I know it sounds crazy, but she'll probably want it again in the morning." He smirked. "She's a morning person, but only after she's had breakfast. She's an absolute _nightmare_ if she doesn't get breakfast." He said it casually but pointedly, the cadence of an accomplice, passing along secrets of the trade to a new hire.

Hancock laughed dryly. "Jesus, I'm in that deep already, huh?"

MacCready shrugged, a quick, casual lift of his shoulders; would've almost been convincing if not for the amusement in his eyes. "Aren't you?"

Hancock spent the night. They slept on either side of her, each with a hand laced with one of hers.

In the morning, they made her breakfast.


	7. Desperate Measures

_"Basically, F!SS and her male love interest have no privacy since the camp or settlement (of your choice) is full of people around the clock, including the bunk, which is full of beds, etc. Lights are out and everyone is asleep in the same room, except F!SS and her male companion. They're feeling frisky so they go the full nine yards and turns out the sex is really hot but they have to try really, really hard to keep the noise minimal. Bonus if one or both end up biting each other to keep quiet. Also bonus if one or both of them are naturally really loud during sex so they're pretty much pained on the verge of tears trying to keep silent._

 _F!SS can be paired with any male character of your choice (romanceable or not). Ty!"_

* * *

"God, that radio's annoying."

"Did you know it plays all night? 'Cause I didn't know that."

"And so _loud_."

"It's deafening. How do these people sleep here?"

River wasn't any happier than MacCready was about having to spend the night at the Castle, but a sudden thunderstorm and his strong aversion to traveling while wet had cut their journey to Warwick Homestead short. They bitched about it in hushed whispers, lying side-by-side on a lumpy mattress in one of the many alcoves inside the Castle walls. They had the room, if it could be called that, to themselves, but there were people in the alcoves on either side of them, separated only by open doorways.

She thought longingly of the private bedroom she'd built for herself at Warwick. It was a small, one-room metal building removed from the rest of the settlement, with a big mattress and doors that closed them away from the rest of the world.

" _This is Radio Freedom_ ," the Minuteman's voice rang out through the speakers again, " _nothing to report_."

"Oh, my god, if there's nothing to report, then don't report it," River hissed, hands curled into claws in her irritation.

MacCready smothered his laughter into his elbow. "You're the General. Just go tell him to take the night off."

She ducked her head against his chest, pulling the blanket up over herself. "It's too cold out there," she complained, her muffled voice barely loud enough for him to hear.

"I'll give you that one," he conceded quietly. He felt her cold fingers inching up under his shirt. "Jesus, River, your hands are freezing. What are you doing?"

"Warming them," she murmured into his skin, kissing the taut muscle over his stomach. "And distracting you."

"Well . . . it's working."

He felt more than heard her laughter. The decidedly unsexy violins and the rain storm wouldn't provide much audible cover; he could hear the men snoring in the alcoves on either side of them, which meant they could hear _him_ \- to be more accurate, they could hear _River_. When she started tugging down his pants, he pulled the blanket up over his own head. "It's the music, isn't it?" he teased, drawing her attention. "Old-timey violins always do it to me, too."

She smirked up at him from under the tangled mess of her hair. "Shut up. It just feels a little naughty, doesn't it?"

"Extremely. One of us doesn't really know how to keep quiet, though."

River emerged again from beneath the blanket, silencing him with a hungry kiss. One of her hands palmed him through his underwear - she really didn't need to be so persuasive, he was already on board. What did he care if they woke up a few Minutemen? _He_ wasn't the damn General. . . .

He ducked his head against her shoulder and nipped at her neck, feeling her shudder against him in response. She was really such a treat - curvy and soft in all the right places, and he couldn't blame the men who shot him envious looks when she held his hand in public or when they got a little too bold with their kisses. He wasn't entirely sure he deserved her, either, but it wouldn't stop him from enjoying every moment they shared, keeping her safe, loving her with every ounce of his being.

River was making impressive progress on the essential parts of their clothing. She'd kicked her pants into a bundle at the foot of the mattress, fingers pulling deftly at his belt. He probably shouldn't have even bothered wearing one today. They hadn't had sex in a few days, and she'd been all riled-up since they left Bunker Hill that morning, excited about the night they now were not spending at Warwick Homestead. It gave him a chance, though, to slide his hands up under her shirt, spread his fingers wide over her ribs. Her skin was cold beneath his palms and he ran them tenderly down her sides to warm her.

She writhed beneath his touch, latching onto the curve of his shoulder to stifle the noises she was already struggling to keep quiet. He shoved a thigh up between her legs, pressed his fingers to the slick heat of her sex. She licked her hand and gripped the head of his cock, lining it up between her thighs. His head fell back when she sank down onto him, the tight clench of her walls around him sweet agonizing torture.

River sighed in relief, rolling her hips and taking him so deep it forced a squeak out of her. He shoved two of his fingers between her teeth, wiggling them pointedly against her tongue until her lips closed obediently around them. She bit down hard enough to sting, but it was bearable. Satisfied that she had something to occupy that traitorously loud mouth of hers, he jerked his hips sharply upward. The bed gave a noisy squeal beneath them and they froze, staring at each other with wide, panicked eyes.

They listened for a beat: more violins, more gentle snoring, nothing to indicate they'd been discovered . . . yet.

RJ lifted his head to catch one of her breasts in his mouth, tongue rough and hungry against the hardened peak of her nipple. She suckled helplessly at his fingers, hips grinding desperately against him. He steadied her hips with his hand to a slow roll, a controlled burn. River had enough sexual energy to exhaust any one average human male; sometimes it was better to contain a little of that energy before it got out of hand. Especially when they were one crumbling stone wall away from a stranger on either side.

River pulled his hand from her mouth and buried her face in his neck, taking hold of him there with her teeth. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over, planted his knees between her thighs, and after a moment of fumbled adjustments, he shoved into her again. Her nails raked wildly over his shoulders, mouth humming pained little noises into his throat.

 _Fuck_ , she was _warm_ , and so damn soft at the same time, like silk and velvet. He muffled his labored breathing between her breasts, occasionally landing stinging kisses on one or the other. Her fingers gripped his hair and held him close, urging him to continue.

He couldn't hear much anymore past the rushing of blood in his ears and the tiny, minute rustle of their frantic movements. For River's sake, he hoped the radio and the falling rain would be enough to drown them out.

She released his neck from her teeth, soothing the spot over with her lips and tongue before searching for another one. The next bite came to his left shoulder, thankfully a fleshier part of him; it was always easier to bear her teeth there. He felt her knuckles brush his hip, and he realized at the sudden squeeze of her walls around him that she was touching herself.

River worried the slick nub between her folds with clumsy strokes, timed in the lulls between his thrusts. It was an awkward climb toward release, sometimes there, sometimes not; he could see the frustration play over her face, eyes shut tight, teeth digging into her lip. He caught a handful of her hair and gave it a lazy tug. Her eyes flew open, lips suddenly parting and he barely had time to slap his hand over her mouth to muffle the cry there.

MacCready ducked his head against her shoulder, whispered a laugh, hardly louder than a breath. "You're so bad at this."

River pulled his hair in response, evidently not trusting herself to speak. Nipped at the palm of his hand, but didn't move to push him away. He shifted her leg up over his shoulder, and her eyes rolled back at his next thrust, her moan a muffled vibration under his hand. She nodded frantically, tears welling at the edges of her eyes from the effort.

 _Fuck_ , it was really something, watching powerful, unstoppable River fall apart underneath him. Her nails were digging into his side, hips flexing and clenching, and then she threw her head back, body seizing as she came. He bit down on her shoulder, suppressing a groan. The bed squeaked beneath their frenetic rocking, and she was moaning way too loud into his hand, someone would definitely hear, but fuck, feeling her come around him was too much. He gave another deep few thrusts and spilled inside of her, fighting to keep himself quiet through the waves of pleasure.

They held onto each other, panting for breath as silently as they could. Once the pounding of his pulse faded from his ears, MacCready tried to take stock of their surroundings: Freedom Radio still piped out uninterrupted from the speakers, and rain continued to fall in gusts against the Castle walls around them. He would've been relieved if not for the distinct lack of snoring from either direction.

River pressed her lips to his ear. "Think we got away with it?"

MacCready shook his head, muffling his laughter into the curve of her throat. "You're definitely gonna get some stares tomorrow."

"Hmn." She kissed him lazily, a satisfied smile on her face. "Worth it."

* * *

River discovered that word travelled fast in the Castle walls. The Minutemen were evidently all a bunch of horrible gossips, because she received more than a few curious looks the next morning, even a few lascivious grins when they thought she wasn't looking - _and_ on top of that could likely expect an awkward, carefully-worded lecture on propriety from Preston next time she saw him.

"I don't even want to hear it," she warned MacCready icily.

He didn't say a word, but the grin on his face was smug enough to get his point across.


	8. Riveted

River kicked over an empty wastebasket, grumbling under her breath in disappointment. She'd wasted the better part of an hour combing through the old Fallon's department store, with nothing to show for it but mutant blood on her boots and a few stray bottlecaps. With the sinking sensation of dashed hopes, she ducked into the last set of fitting rooms, shotgun at the ready in case they'd left anybody standing.

The light from her Pip-Boy illuminated the dark room with a red glow as she scanned the floor, growing increasingly frustrated. The spare few garments left abandoned in the stalls were all too destroyed to wear, the once-lovely colors faded and dull.

She stepped back out into the hallway, reluctant to return to the lobby where MacCready was surely slouched against a wall, rifle over his lap, sighing loudly every few seconds in the off-chance she was somewhere in earshot. If he really minded, he'd say so - that was the wonderful thing about MacCready. He just liked playing impatient because he knew it irked her.

"All right, you win this time," River conceded with a pitiful sigh as she rounded the corner back into the lobby. When MacCready wasn't immediately visible, she felt a squeeze of brief panic. Her eyes swept the open room with greater focus until she spotted a door in the far corner slightly ajar. "RJ?" she called, palming her shotgun as she drew nearer.

"In here," his voice came drifting out.

She toed the door open and found MacCready in a small office, face-to-face with his own reflection in a floor-length fitting room mirror that was propped back against the wall. When she stepped up to his side, River realized it was nearly perfectly intact - a rare condition to find anything in these days, let alone something so fragile. "Well, you found more than I did."

MacCready tore his gaze from the mirror to meet hers, black pupils eclipsing the blue of his irises to slivers. It wasn't just a look, it was a _look_ , heavy and hungry and wanting. She felt her cheeks start to grow warm as he stepped closer to her, his eyes dropping to her mouth. His hands slid over hers, pulling the gun from her grasp to set it aside. Her ass hit the edge of the desk and then he was kissing her, one hand drifting up the slope of her leg, the other braced against the metal surface beside her.

He kissed her fervently, teeth pulling at her bottom lip before soothing the sting over with his tongue. Eyes slipping closed, she flicked her tongue at his teeth and whined greedily when he nipped her softly in response. Her breath left her in a shaky huff as his mouth hunted down her jaw to her throat, where he sank his teeth in harder. She moaned his name, burying her fingers in his hair and knocking the cap from his head.

Pulling back, MacCready took a moment to search her face. His lips twitched toward a smile. "You are so damn beautiful," he sighed, dipping his head to suck at the other side of her throat, muffling his voice there. "And so _fucking_ sexy." His hands caught her at the hips and tugged her closer. He rumbled a noise of approval when she wound her legs around him.

"And here I thought you were gonna be a total brat about having to wait."

"Later," MacCready responded without missing a beat, his voice distant, distracted as he focused on loosening the straps of her armor. With a twist of her arms, she helped him pull the metal plates off and toss them aside. Once he'd pulled her shirt up over her head, he kissed her again, started shrugging impatiently out of his coat.

River bit back a groan, the throaty sound breaking loose when he pushed his hips closer, and she felt how hard he was for her. She clutched his shirt in her fist and drew in a deep breath, lightheaded from all the abrupt sensation. "RJ," she breathed, surprise and laughter in her voice. "I thought you hated shopping."

"This isn't _shopping_." She could practically hear him rolling his eyes even as he worked at the hooks of her bra. Classic MacCready: never too distracted to complain. A triumphant smile broke out over his face when he pulled her bra loose. "It's a waste of time while you cry over destroyed clothes."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he chose that moment to suck a bruise into the curve of one of her breasts, and the abrupt pulling pain stole the words from her tongue.

MacCready felt River's fingers tug hard at his hair, with frustration she voiced in a rough whine as he bit and lapped at her skin. He worked his way down her breasts, to dusky pink nipples that pebbled under his mouth, his fingers unfastening the button of her pants. Her hips gave an impatient wiggle to help him peel the material down her legs.

Fuck, he loved her, with every last ounce of his _being_ he loved her. She'd walked into this cramped little office all worked up and disappointed, and moments later she was naked and whimpering beneath him, legs hooking him closer by the hips. Nobody had ever wanted him like River did - hungrily, near constantly, with a craving bordering on desperation. And maybe this was just the sexual appetite of a twenty-two-year-old talking, but he could never deny her, no matter how exhausted or frustrated or filthy from the wastes they might be; he'd fuck her every day for the rest of their lives if he could get away with it.

Her bare legs met the cool desk, startling a soft breath out of her. She leaned back on her hands, amber eyes shining down at him when he knelt between her knees. Her gaze flickered suddenly up over his shoulder to the mirror, and she stared at her reflection with mild surprise, as if she'd forgotten it was there. Then she glanced back down at him, and her lips twisted up at the end in recognition.

He nodded distractedly, between teething kisses up the slope of her thigh that made her moan and squirm. One of her hands came up to wind into his hair again, nails scratching lightly at his scalp at the sensation of his tongue and teeth on her skin.

Watching the frenzy in her expression when she came was always the best fucking part of his day. And some part of him wanted her to witness it, see firsthand what he saw, understand how fucking _beautiful_ she was when she fell apart. He'd stumbled into the office looking for caps, and then he'd discovered the mirror, and all he could think of was watching River in it as he fucked her.

MacCready pulled River to the edge of the desk and let out a strangled groan at the sight of her glistening folds, his cock straining for friction in his pants. He couldn't form the right words, thoughts racing too fast to pin down. _Need this, need her, been thinking about it all fucking day_ and then he dragged his tongue up the length of her sex, and she gave a sharp gasp above him as her hips twitched beneath his hands.

He would never for the rest of his life forget the first time he got to do this for her. After the big frozen nap, she was _sensitive_ \- every touch, even an inexperienced one like his, was shock and flame to her long-neglected body, and if not for her hands at the back of his head urging him closer, he would've worried she was in pain from all the cries and shrieks she let loose.

He closed his lips over her hooded bud and sucked gently, flicking his tongue feather-light against her. Loved the feeling of her slick folds parting under his tongue and the faint taste of her, every single one of the delicious noises she made.

"Jesus _fuck_ , you are - so _good_ at that," River bit out between heavy panting, and he felt her legs slide over his shoulders, drawing him in closer.

Fuck if it didn't get much better than this, the woman he loved moaning his praises, her thighs clenched and trembling over his shoulders, fist pulling desperately at his hair. He traced his fingertip down her folds, hinted at pushing into her but held back for now, smirking when her hips bucked impatiently in response. Drew circles with his tongue that made her stiffen and gasp.

 _Yeah, this is exactly what I fucking needed._

River fought to keep her eyes open and watch her reflection like she knew he wanted her to, gnawing on her bottom lip. She'd never seen her own expression like this, brows arched up as if in pain, mouth spilling open without her control. She liked that MacCready could do that to her, and she _loved_ the sight of his head between her thighs as he worked her with his mouth, her pale fingers threading through tawny hair, the sensation of his fingernails digging delightfully into her skin.

He had a clever tongue, her MacCready, and he had gotten very good with it. Maintaining eye contact with her reflection became increasingly difficult the nearer he brought her to climax, her eyes fluttering with each blinding starburst of pleasure, interrupting her view of the mirror. She was forced to witness the image of herself in glimpses, whenever she could summon the will to force her eyes back open.

Her reflection gasped and gazed back at her. She looked sweaty and frantic, her eyes glazed over, hair sticking damp to her temples. She felt his mouth pulling light suction, tongue rolling up over her clit, the slight scratch of his facial hair against her sensitive skin. She tugged at his hair, holding him close, and heard him groan against her in response.

"Oh, god, that's good," River whined, hips flexing as he lapped determinedly at her. "I'm - fuck, I'm close."

MacCready swiped his tongue over her folds, exhaling hard against her skin, and she was sure he would need to breathe soon, but she was close - _so close, very close_ \- and then he closed his lips around her clit and sucked hard and she cried out as she tipped over into orgasm.

In the mirror, she watched her own body arch back, mouth stretching open into a breathless scream. Her normally pale skin was flushed with exertion, nipples pink and taut. She looked wild and unwound, a shudder of pleasure seizing through her whole body, and that was the last thing she saw before her eyes slipped closed. When the shocks of ecstasy started to fade, and his tongue on her became too much, she used her grip in his hair to pull him away.

MacCready reluctantly lifted his head, dragging in a deep breath of air. And he looked up at her like a man lost in worship, lips and mouth shining as he gasped for breath. He licked the taste of her from his lips and grinned, lifting to his feet.

"Yes, I get it, you're very good at that," she approved dryly, earning herself a boyish laugh.

"Pretty good at other things, too," he muttered, the smirk still on his face.

River pulled impatiently at his clothing, tugging his shirt up over his head and sighing in relief when she had his bare skin in her hands. He angled his head back, offering the column of his neck, and she felt the groan in his throat when she closed her lips around his pulse point. One of his hands returned to the dripping heat of her sex, fingers questing, pushing in and filling her up and _oh_ \- he was perfect, he was pleasure and delight and she felt him in her every heartbeat.

"Need you, baby," she whimpered against his skin, between suckling bites at his neck and shoulders.

"Yeah," he agreed in a rough voice as he fumbled with his belt. River rolled onto her feet and moved around to the other side of the desk. In the mirror, she watched him slowly skirt the desk and wrap his arms around her waist. His hands were rough and warm on her stomach, and she felt his mouth at her back, trailing kisses along the line of her shoulders. She rolled her hips, pressing herself back against the erection caught in his pants, coaxing an astonished hiss out of him.

River hummed in satisfaction and braced herself against the desk to push back with more urgency, seeking the other delicious noises he made that she loved so much. His breath tickled her skin when he exhaled, leaning his head against her shoulder as he pushed his pants down his hips.

Lifting her head, she stared at her reflection, cheeks pink with impatience. She heard him chuckle behind her, and then his head appeared over her shoulder in the mirror, meeting her gaze with those baby blues she adored, blown-out and heavy-lidded with lust.

"Fuck," he groaned at the sight of her.

They both watched his hand move up her stomach to the curve of one of her breasts, his thumb rolling over a pink nipple, perfect friction that sent twinges of heat down her spine. He dropped his gaze, bending his knees to angle himself behind her. She felt his cock pushing hard and heavy between her thighs and leaned forward, hands splayed out over the desk, eyes locked on their reflection. And then he slid in, slowly, _slowly_ , so she felt every agonizing inch of him, drawing strangled moans out of both of them. And when his hips finally stilled, she savored how fucking _full_ she always felt with him inside of her like this.

"Fuck," she agreed, slumping forward onto her elbows. She felt the weight of his gaze and glanced up at the mirror, finding his eyes on her reflection.

MacCready dragged his palm down the curve of her spine, hips giving a lazy thrust, slow and easy. He left teething kisses at the base of her neck, her hair in his fist, just firm enough for her to feel the pressure of his hold. Even the most delicious of pleasures needed an edge of pain, and god bless him, he really knew it. "River," he moaned, setting a tremble in her knees. She loved his voice around her name, that whispered plea, that reverent prayer. Then he straightened again, his hands at her hips, gripping the generous flesh there possessively.

It was really a treat, watching his reflection as MacCready fucked her. She got to see every tensing muscle in his body behind her, his stomach, his hips, his arms and shoulders, _fuck_ , she'd always been weak for his shoulders. And he was so delightfully expressive, something like laughter in his voice as he dipped his head to nip at her shoulder. "Love you," he mumbled, nuzzling at the curve of her neck.

River's answering laugh was soft and throaty as she pulled one of his hands to her mouth, kissing his fingers with unmistakable tenderness. "Love you, too, handsome. Now come on. Show me what it looks like when you fuck me senseless."

MacCready licked his lips and broke out in a grin, shifting one of his feet and then sliding back into her with a swiftness that wrenched a moan from her throat. "There," he said, smirking, at the brief twist in her expression, brows shooting up and lips parting around a gasp. "Fuck, that's it. So damn pretty. I could fuck you all day, beautiful." He pushed deeper, one calloused hand at the small of her back. White hot pleasure coiled tight at the base of her spine, pulsing with each time he slid into her.

A particularly rough thrust pitched her flat against the desk, the cold metal chilling her skin and the rosy peaks of her nipples. She hissed between her teeth, losing sight of her reflection as her eyes slipped closed, lost in sensation: MacCready's rough fingertips trailing down her back, and the sweet, sweet burn of stretching around that _perfect cock_ when he filled her, over and over.

"Shit, _shit_ , baby, that's good," she whimpered, scratching uselessly at the desk. Her thighs coiled and tensed like a spring, growing weaker at the apex of each thrust. When she could finally scrape together the focus, she willed her eyes back open.

MacCready was watching every line and angle of her body with rapt attention. He caught her by the arm, twisted it gingerly over her back, forcing her body into an upward curve. Her breasts swung with every slap of his hips against hers, her mouth caught open in a voiceless cry of pleasure. A hungry, strangled sound rumbled in his throat, then he gave another sharp thrust and she saw stars.

He looked like something she'd dreamed up, all lean, tensing muscle under tan skin and scars, jaw clenched in concentration as he fucked her. She reached back, blindly, until she felt the planes of his stomach beneath her fingertips, the trail of tawny hair that she'd followed so many times before with her mouth. With his name on her tongue, she rode out each thrust of his hips, each crashing wave of boneless pleasure. She watched herself slowly unwind in the mirror, lips parting around puffs of breath, shaping the syllables of his name, short and high and frantic.

Her body shuddered at his next thrust, the pressure twisting into something sweeter, something sharper, the vague hint of orgasm solidifying into a promise.

MacCready liked to think he was pretty perceptive - he was a sniper, after all, and a damn good one at that. After years wandering the wastes with his eye to a scope, he'd trained himself to stay quiet and observe, to wait and watch. And he'd spent more time than he'd like to admit watching River.

So he knew she was close. Or, he supposed, he _felt_ how close she was. He could hear her nails scraping along the desk, the little catch at the end of each panting breath, and every time he slid home she whimpered and clenched around him. In the mirror, her eyes rolled back behind fluttering eyelids as she panted for breath. She had fucking perfect breasts, pressed obscenely against the desk, teasing him with just a glimpse of pink nipples when she pushed her hips eagerly back against him.

MacCready ducked his head, watching his cock disappear inside of her and slide back out, slick and shining with her arousal. Her hips trembled in his hands and her thighs seized up as she came, letting out a piercing wail. "Fuck, River, fuck," he groaned, mesmerized by her reflection and the breathtaking way she tightened and squeezed around him. She shut her eyes, digging into the back of her hand with her teeth in a halfhearted attempt to keep herself quiet. Her hair was soft in his grip - _how does she keep it so fucking soft?_ \- and with a heaving breath, she gasped his name, eyes blinking back open once her shuddering body had finally fallen still again.

"Beautiful," he sighed, lovingly. "Absolutely fucking beautiful." Her skin was warm and flush with sweat beneath his fingertips as he traced them down her spine. She pushed herself up with shaky arms, rolling over onto her back. The sight of her white hair spilling over the dark metal made his cock twitch, always hard for her, wasn't sure what it was about the hair that did it for him - just that it was so uniquely her, otherworldly and ethereal, like some superhero, stepped out of a comic book and into his life. And now this walking fantasy was spread out naked over a desk, slick with want for him, gazing up with heavy-lidded hunger in the copper-gold of her eyes.

River braced a bare foot against his shoulder, biting back a giggle when he kissed her ankle and his hand drifted higher up her leg. His fingers traced the topography of the burn scar that spanned the lower half of her leg, a wound she'd gotten at the interchange - fighting for him, raining destruction down on the gunners and leaving nothing but ash and smoke in her wake.

She hooked her legs around his waist and pulled him closer, tugging him down by the shoulder into a kiss. The desk was cold beneath his palms, but her body was warm, always warm, and when he slid into her again - scorching hot. Groaned at the feel of her around him, her fingers tugging at his hair, teeth at his throat, latching onto him with everything she had. Staking her claim with love bites and scratch marks - _mine, all mine_ , she wrote it over his neck, his back, his shoulders, and he wished they would stay there forever and always mark her as his.

He'd said as much once, in the hazy warmth of afterglow, tangled up together under the slowly spinning fan in her quarters at the Castle. Hancock on the other side of her, lighting a cigarette, his arm thrown over her hip as she curled up into MacCready's side. Her fingers were tracing the purple bruise she'd sucked into his shoulder, rimmed with red from her lipstick. She frowned regretfully until she felt his hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see the grin on his face.

 _I like 'em. 'Sides, I'm tough. I can take your little teeth and claws all over me. . . ._

He remembered Hancock's rasping chuckle. _You couldn't hurt us if you tried, kitten._

 _No, but it's cute when you worry._

And River laughed, pressing gentle kisses to the marks she'd left behind, lips cherry red against his skin. _Well, you know where to find me when they fade. I can always make more._

MacCready planted a hand on the desk to support his weight as he sucked at her throat, groaning when she writhed underneath him, cunt squeezing around his cock. "RJ," she breathed, her hands sliding over the line of his shoulders. Spellbound by the expressions that passed over her face, he thrust in to the hilt and held there, watched her gasp and squirm and felt her fingernails, scraping down his biceps. He was surprised he fit sometimes, she was so small, but her hands moved to his waist, a whine in her throat as she tried to urge him back into motion.

"Damn, you feel so good," he breathed against her jaw, scraping the blunt edge of his teeth there and rolling his hips. Her body gripped and squeezed at him every time he dragged his cock out, searing like tight, liquid heat when he pushed back in. "Where've you been all my life?"

Her laughter seemed to spill out of her, a flash of white teeth in her smile. "Frozen," she panted, then, " _ohhh, fuck_ \- in a fucking _vault_ , you _shit_."

"Mmn." Biting back a smirk, he ran a hand down the soft planes of her stomach to her slick folds, fingertips tracing where she stretched around his cock. "You don't feel frozen," he said as his thumb found the sensitive bud of her clit. "You feel _warm_." He sucked at her pulse point, felt it racing beneath her skin. "And wet, and . . . _fuck_ \- perfect."

River whined, a needy, desperate sound. He swore he could feel her clench around him every time he spoke, getting off on the sound of his voice. He gripped her hair in his fist and trailed his lips up her jaw to the shell of her ear. "And the way you _taste_ -"

"Fuck!" she gasped, shuddering. He planted a few last teething kisses over her shoulders before rising to his full height. Taking her hips in his hands, he pulled her closer, driving as deep as he could go. Her nails bit into his skin as she cried out, head thrown back. The long snowy silk of her hair draped down over the back of the desk like a curtain. Tears sprung up at the edges of her eyes, and the sight of one rolling down her cheek momentarily cleared the fog of lust from his mind.

"S'good," she promised, catching the concern on his face. Her hands groped for his wrist, and he let her pull his hand to her mouth, nearly choking on a breath when she closed her lips around two of his fingers and sucked. He felt her tongue stroke the calloused pads and the seams of his knuckles.

"Fuckin' Christ, River," he groaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, losing himself in the overlapping waves of pleasure, her pulsing walls around his cock and that devilish, talented mouth sucking at his fingers -

And then suddenly River was pushing him away with her hands and feet. He pulled back immediately, brows pushing together in worry. "You okay?"

River clambered to her feet, and a devious smile was all the warning he got before she grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him bodily back over the desk. He landed hard against the cool metal, huffing out an annoyed "Hey!" as she crawled on top of him and latched onto his throat with her teeth like a predator, feeding on her prey. _She just fuckin' hunted me_ he thought indignantly, and then she was sliding the heat of her sex over his cock, lazy, patient strokes back and forth, hinting at pushing down but never taking him deeper. She smiled, wicked and lovely as she teased him, because she knew he liked working for it - knew him like waves know shores - and she was nothing if not accommodating.

She pinned his shoulders to the desk with her hands, white hair spilling down and tickling his ribs when she leaned forward to kiss him, sinking down onto his cock as she went. He fidgeted restlessly beneath her, squeezing the warm, soft flesh of her thighs in his hands. She didn't let him rush her, not now or ever, always liked to take her sweet time with the whole ordeal and _god_ he loved her for it. He felt her breath in warm puffs against his neck, then the press of her teeth again, blunt and straight.

She bit him at the curve of his neck and held him there between her teeth, wiggling her hips down those last few precious inches until they were flush against each other. Her fingers gripped a fistful of his hair and she groaned into his skin, shuddering above him.

River let out a breathy laugh between kisses to his shoulder. Her fingertips trailed lazily over his chest, tracing muscle and ribs, scars and sun-bronzed skin. She made another pleased little noise and smiled down at him. "You look good on your back."

He groaned when she lifted her hips and slid slowly back down. " _Shit_ \- you just like beating me up."

Her lips parted around a sultry laugh. "Maybe a little." She rolled her hips in a languid circle, watching his throat swallow empty air in response, a halted sigh escaping from between his teeth. Head tilting back, she closed her eyes and rocked her hips, sighing when the hard weight of his cock shifted inside of her. " _Oh_." And he laughed at her, smug fucker, reaching up to trace the hard peak of one of her nipples, making her twitch and squirm on top of him. Then he sat up, and she felt his mouth at the base of her throat, tongue lashing out at her skin.

In the mirror, River drank in the lean shape of his torso - the slim waist and curve of his spine, broad, fit shoulders and below them, the backs of his arms that she felt warm and secure around her. His head was buried in her throat, mouth latched onto her, and over the slope of his shoulder she found her own gaze, wide and wild, the gold-brown nearly blotted out by her pupils. There was something beautiful about seeing her pale fingers over his tan skin and tawny hair, the shift of his muscles every time he moved.

MacCready hunted lower with his mouth, finding the tight peak of a nipple and sucking it into his mouth, and the stroke of his tongue over the sensitive nerves made her whimper and wriggle deeper onto him.

"RJ," she whispered, and he lifted his head to smile at her. She held his face in her hands and tenderly kissed him, feeling his arms pull her in tighter. There was nothing more comforting than MacCready's arms; his body was utterly familiar, like an extension of her own by now, and he fit her so perfectly that being connected in this way sometimes felt more natural than being apart.

River liked the way they looked together, too. MacCready was all hard lines and lean muscle, rough around the edges, while she was every kind of soft in comparison. The reflection of her pale, slender form on top of him filled her with satisfaction, his wide, masculine hands on her waist.

With MacCready, every touch was _I love you_ , every smile and smirk and scowl, every time he handed her a few extra shotgun shells or shot a raider's head off before they could lay a hand on her, and fucking him was no different. He _worshipped_ her - kissed and caressed, murmured her name like it was the best word he'd ever tasted on his tongue. Sometimes when he said her name, it was low and gentle, an easy stream, the waters that run under the old north bridge in Sanctuary; sometimes it wasn't a river but a torrent, surging white-water rapids sweeping her swiftly out to sea, and her whole life was fucking water metaphors, but with MacCready they finally felt right.

She watched in the mirror as his hand hunted up the plane of her stomach, fingertips stroking over one of her nipples on the way. He found the slender column of her throat and wrapped his hand around it, thumb and forefinger resting under either side of her jaw. It was a deliciously helpless sensation, relinquishing control of her head and neck to his strong hold, trusting him implicitly with that most vulnerable part of herself, and a dark thrill of submissive pleasure danced down her spine. His hand guided her head firmly, tilting her chin up until she was eye-to-eye once more with her reflection, and the sight of his hand curled confidently around her throat was enough to make her knees weak.

Keeping her head still, River groped blindly for his other hand and he gave it to her. His grip flexed around her throat, threatening at pressure but releasing it - teasing her, even in this, and she was gonna edge the _shit_ out of him later if he kept this up.

As if he could read her mind, MacCready laughed, a husky, carefree sound - a man in his element, who knew her body and never wanted her to forget it, and there was no way she ever would, but she loved every time he felt like reminding her.

River took one last long, steady drag of breath before he slowly tightened his grasp around her throat, pressing in with the edge of his palm between thumb and index finger. The first thing she registered was the change in sound. All the ambient noise in the room - his labored breathing, the metal desk creaking beneath them, the howl of a strong wind passing over the ruined building - suddenly grew compressed and flat, reduced to small pinpoints of sound, as if over a great distance. She felt more than heard the _pump, pump, pump_ of her heartbeat in her ears, the not-quite-pain of his grip constricting her airway. Then the burn of just too little oxygen, lacing each breath she dragged in past his hold with the sweetest edge of want, of needing and not having, of grasping through darkness and finding nothing. It was panic and peace all at once, the white static of mindless pleasure, and when he rolled his hips up into her, she cried out a strangled moan and clutched frantically at his arms for support.

"Jesus, look at you," MacCready groaned, staring up at her expression in awe, and she obediently followed his gaze to the wide-eyed woman looking back at her. Her face was slack as she panted for air, utter relief and a bone-deep pleasure etched over her features. "Fuck, River, you're so fucking beautiful."

She managed a short, fond laugh, but it died on her tongue as soon as he started moving again, pinning her thigh down in his free hand. Each roll and shift of his hips drove his cock deeper and dragged it back out, and her every nerve felt like a fucking _livewire_ when she was starving for air.

Little panting breaths were all she could get out past his hand wrapped around her throat, shrieks and moans reduced to quiet gasps. In the mirror, her cheeks were starting to turn red with strain, the veins in her neck pulsing under his palm. Thoughts broke apart into formless notion, spark and sensation sinking down the length of her spine and coiling deep within her.

River ran her hands up his arm, pale fingers over tense, tan muscle, transfixed by the sight of their reflection, his hand wide and certain at her neck, just this side of too tight. He bucked his hips up into her and her eyes rolled back, legs twitching on either side of him.

She wanted to speak, to praise him and tell him how good he felt, how perfect he was, how sweet and kind and brave, how much she _loved him_ , the rant went on and on in her head - the one she normally would have spilled out in a mess of throaty syllables, fuck-jumbled and almost indiscernible, but he always seemed to like them anyways. She remembered all at once that she'd requested he fuck her senseless earlier.

 _You get whatever you want, angel,_ he'd promised her once, and damn if he didn't make good on his word.

She rolled her hips in lilting circles, rhythm unsteady, slowed by bouts of sharp, blinding pleasure that made her falter. When she felt darkness creep in at the edge of her thoughts, she tapped his arm and he immediately let go, dropping his hand to her other hip. She gripped the edge of the desk on either side of him, hair spilling down over her shoulders as she gasped for breath. "Keep going," she whimpered, grinding her hips deeper onto him.

MacCready guided her hips into motion, lifting and sinking her slowly back down onto his cock, her body quivering every time like clockwork under his hands.

"Oh, fuck," she panted. "Baby, _please_."

"Go on," he urged her, smirking, and slid one of his hands from her hip to the slick folds spread around his cock. "What do you want?"

"RJ," River whined in disapproval, rocking her hips impatiently. " _Dooon't_."

MacCready bit down on his lip and fought the urge to laugh. His fingers brushed briefly over her clit, a hint of pressure and then gone. "Ri-ver," he sang teasingly.

" _Fuck_ , baby, please make me come," she begged him, her voice high and frantic. "Please, _please_ , I need you."

With a breathless chuckle, he started firm, steady circles around her clit with his fingertips. "Well, when you ask so nicely. . ."

River groaned and jerked in response, relief warring with the frustration still furrowed in her brow as she melted into the sharp pleasure. "Yes," she breathed. "Yes, _god_ , yes."

She scraped her nails over his arms, scrabbling for purchase when he held onto her hip and slammed up into her. The fingers at her clit never let up, stroking her insistently, with determined focus, like he needed it as badly as she did.

"Want to see you come," he panted, smiling reverently up at her.

"Mmn - oh, _oh_ , yes!" Her shoulders gave a violent shudder before her whole body stiffened, a flurry of curses breaking loose as she came. He worked her through it as best he could while she thrashed and squirmed on top of him. He heard her moaning his name over and over, and her nails in his biceps, and combined with the way she clenched tight around him, it was the perfect alignment of sensation to tip him into release.

With a strangled groan, he seized her by the hips and drove her down onto him, burying his cock deep as he came inside of her. Her lips trailed kisses over his jaw and cheek and she murmured in pleasure, rocking back against the last of his shaky thrusts. She could feel him spilling inside of her, and she shivered at the familiar, irresistible sensation.

There was a moment of dazed silence, during which MacCready realized he was suddenly _way too fucking hot_. The office had grown stifling from their activity, and he felt sweat clinging to every inch of his skin.

River let out a pathetic whimper on top of him.

"Shit," he croaked, running a hand gently down her side. "You okay?"

She laughed, and her sex clenched weakly around his softening cock, startling a hiss out of him. "Help," she squeaked faintly.

He groaned in exhaustion, splaying his arms out over the sides of the desk. "Okay. I'm on it. I'm getting up right now and putting my clothes on."

"Your dick broke me, you jackass," she complained, and then they both laughed, tired and edging toward hysterical with post-coital bliss. "Okay. Okay, I'm climbing down."

"I'm not gonna make it," he said with an exaggerated grimace as she clambered off of him on shaky legs. "Go on without me."

"You started this whole thing!" she accused him, laughing.

He reached out to grab her hand, drawing her back into the circle of his arm and kissing her softly. Humming contentedly, she relaxed against him. "How was the view?"

A blush touched her cheeks. "Enlightening."

"I get to see that for the rest of my life," he said in an awed voice, his smile almost disbelieving. "Do you know how lucky I am?"

River blinked at him, eyes wide, and the blush lingered on her face when she giggled and kissed him. "God, you're sweet."

"- she says lovingly, after I choke her and make her beg to come. You're such a romantic, River."

She laughed. "Only for you, my love. Come on, I'm not spending the night in a creepy old Fallon's. We gotta get home."

It was a tough job getting dressed again when MacCready could barely feel his legs, but eventually they both managed to get clothes and armor back on. When he asked her if she found anything good, she shook her head, but it didn't seem to bother her so much anymore.

"Maybe the next one," she said with a smile.


	9. Between the Lines

After a quick bath in the frigid waters under the old bridge, River retreated to the truck stop roof, where she stretched out nude over an old towel, letting the sun warm the chill and water from her bare skin. The classical radio station filtered out from her Pip-Boy at her side, interrupted by the occasional _whuff_ from Dogmeat as he patrolled around sniffing out molerat tunnels.

A breeze played over her skin, cooling the hot blaze of sunlight. The comfort of being clean and warm and safe hung heavy in her eyelids, and she dozed in and out, waking briefly to roll onto her stomach, exposing her back to the heat of the sun.

That was how MacCready found her when he finally climbed up to the roof, and she stirred at the touch of his fingers down her spine, almost cool against her sun-flushed back. "You're gonna burn if you stay up here." He admired the new color to her skin as she stretched the stiffness from her muscles, shaking the towel out before wrapping it around her body.

After hours in the sun, the garage was semi-dark and blessedly cool. Their weapons were spread out over the coffee table, cleaned and reassembled from the spotless look to them and the oil-stained rag at their side.

"You've been busy," she observed, a note of guilt coloring her tone. "While I lazed about in the sun."

MacCready kissed the base of her throat, one of his arms sliding around her, pulling her back against his chest. "I don't mind," he assured her with a brief press of teeth over her skin that summoned a shiver down the length of her spine. "I like when you sunbathe, all pretty and naked up there whenever I want you."

River laughed, sun-drowsy and weak to the arrogant, possessive curve of his smile as he guided her toward the bed. His hands drew the towel from her body, roaming appreciatively over soft skin before urging her onto the bed. "And if I felt like making it up to you?" she breathed, rolling back over the mattress, white hair pooled under her head.

He drank in the sight of her sprawled out before him, one long, slender leg braced against his shoulder. A kiss to the ticklish sole of her foot drew a giggle and a reflexive kick out of her that he steadied in his hands, laughing at the pout that tugged at her lips. "You never owe me anything, beautiful."

"You know I love doing things for you, too," she answered easily, curling a leg around his waist to draw him closer. He caught himself with a hand against the mattress and smirked into her kiss, groaning at the stroke of her tongue over his bottom lip.

He enjoyed a few more languid, deepening kisses, his hand cradling her body close, and it felt extra sinful to be so utterly bare and vulnerable beneath him when he was still fully-clothed. His thumb rolled over one of her nipples, rough against sensitive nerves, and she purred out a moan that made him buck against her in response. "Maybe," he ground out finally, lust scraping rough across his voice. His mouth sucked a mark into her throat, swallowing down the groan that hummed beneath her skin. "Would you read something for me?"

River smiled knowingly. "That's hardly doing something for _you_."

"I want your legs wrapped around my head pretty much always," he shot back readily, reaching over for the well-loved book on her nightstand. "Doesn't get much more _for me_ than that."

A blush tinted her cheeks. "Did you have something in mind?"

Without a word, he flipped gingerly through the ancient pages until he found what he was looking for and handed it to her, the ghost of a smirk etching arrogance over his features. While she glanced over the familiar poem, his palms ran along the curve of her ribcage, dragging cool over soft skin, sun-stained bronze and still warm from its touch. Then she felt his lips brush over her hipbone, the brief flick of his tongue at her sensitive flesh, making her squirm and sigh. A puff of breath warmed her when he chuckled quietly. "You taste so damn good when you've been lyin' in the sun all day."

River smiled at the book held in her hands, teeth edging sharp into her bottom lip. The rough pads of his fingers drew heated patterns over her skin as she fought to measure her breathing. "Good choice," she approved softly, then cleared her throat, settling back against the pillows. "Ready?"

"Always," his voice replied, and though the book blocked most of her vision, she could feel the weight and heat of his body near her legs.

" _Al golpe de la ola contra le pied_ _ra_ _indócil._ " Uncertainty frayed the first few syllables before her mouth remembered the feel of them, the lilt and bounce of Spanish over her tongue and behind her teeth. " _La claridad estalla y establece su rosa_."

"Yeah, that's the stuff," MacCready sighed, grinning at the sound of her shaky laughter as he settled between her thighs. "Go on, angel. You got a lot more to go."

She took a steadying breath, trying to focus solely on the faded ink sprawling over the page before her, and not MacCready's mouth searing kisses up the slope of her leg. " _Y-y el circulo del mar se reduce a un racimo_." One wide, coarse hand guided her thigh up over his shoulder, and he paused to scrape his teeth along her skin, eliciting a fervent shiver and a sharp breath that sucked cool air deep into her lungs. " _A una sola gota . . . de-de sal azul que cae._ "

MacCready rumbled a pleased sound and kneaded circles with his thumb into the muscles of her thigh, firming over old aches and pains that disappeared beneath his skilled fingers. He'd always done that for her - eased her troubles away with little more than his bare hands and that disarming, tender way he looked at her like she was everything he'd needed coming together all at once. He'd been so distrustful upon first meeting her, so guarded, had built up a thousand walls to keep everybody out, and yet now every gaze he sent her was rich and nuanced with affection, sometimes frustration, often both at once, when they drove each other crazy in that way that only people who love each other can.

"Awful quiet up there," he noted with amusement, and rested an arm over the cradle of her hips, lifting one of his brows at her.

River traced her free hand admiringly over the sloping muscles of his forearm, purring restlessly, already impatient and they'd only just gotten started. " _Oh radiante magnolia_ ," she went on rhythmically, her voice painting the cadence into silk-smooth flowing music. It was melody and mystery; the meaning would have been lost on his ears if he hadn't read the translation time and time again, and with the verses nearly etched into the back of his mind, savoring the sound now was twice as sweet. He rewarded her with a rough kiss to the seam of her thigh, more teeth than lips, and her hips rolled restlessly in response. " _Desatada en la espuma_."

She felt his breath roll warm over the aching, sensitive folds of her sex, biting back a needy, desperate whimper. She ran her tongue along the line of her teeth and exhaled in determination. " _M_ _agnética viajera cuya muerte florece_. . ." The distantly familiar syllables felt heavy in her mouth with his lips brushing over slick, sensitive heat, parting and searching and finding with unerring ease. He pressed a kiss to the swollen bud of her clit and chuckled knowingly when her hips twitched in response. She swallowed back a sudden well of saliva and pushed through the rest of the line, " _Y eternamente vuelve a ser y a no ser nada_."

The next line she knew by heart, the sibilants and alliteration and rolling, twisting vowels that felt like fresh air and freedom on her tongue. She threw her head back and gasped when MacCready closed his lips around her clit and gave a lazy, experimental suck, hands already around her hips to steady the resulting clench in her body.

"Oh, god," she gasped, eyes screwed shut tight into blinding darkness, then before he could stop, " _Sal rota, deslumbrante movimiento marino_." English danced at the back of her thoughts, echoing its Spanish twin, _broken salt, dazzling lurch of sea_ , such beautiful, beautiful words, and in harmony with the breathless anticipation threading tension through her body, she felt suspended, anxious, hanging by a thread and utterly helpless in his hands.

MacCready urged her other leg over his shoulder and then his mouth was on her fully, tongue lashing up the length of her sex, stealing the breath from her lungs with waves and waves of dizzying, fire-bright pleasure that sparked up her spine like lightning. Her hands found the back of his head, fingers weaving into thick, mussed hair, and he hummed approvingly against her. His mouth was so divine and yet such a wicked thing all at once, warm lips and the scrape of facial hair, questing, confident tongue that could spell out her undoing in perfect, precision strokes.

"Okay," she panted, head spinning as she wet her lips and struggled to focus on reading the words in front of her. The few of his fingernails he hadn't bitten down scraped searing, delicious lines of pain over her thigh. Her teeth bit down into a swollen, red lip as she squirmed. "Ah, _juntos tú y yo, amor mío, sellamos el silencio_." It was a promise and a prayer, rhyming, round vowels like a chant, and his mouth moving lovingly over her sex felt like something _sacred_ with the words on her tongue. " _Mmn - mientras destruye -_ ah! _\- destruye el mar sus constantes estatuas!_ " The sudden sting of teeth lacing the flesh of her thigh forced the last few syllables into a loud gasp, her back arching off the bed. She barely caught a scream behind her teeth when two warm, dry fingers traced down the slick, weeping length of her slit, a few strokes of teasing, blissful pressure that had her whimpering between shallow breaths. " _Y derrumba sus torres de arrebato y . . ._ oh, god _, y blancura_."

MacCready traced hard, measured circles around her clit with his tongue, holding her thighs steady in an iron grip. She rocked her hips against his mouth, the book shaking in her hands as he worked her insistently toward release with a smug, easy arrogance she absolutely adored on him.

River eyed the last three lines of the poem in that impossibly tiny lettering, the words growing blurry then disappearing as her eyes slid shut. A high, keening moan slid out between her teeth when he sank two fingers into the slick heat of her sex. "Shit," she panted, hips rolling to take his fingers deeper as he started to crook and curl them, pressing thick, magnetic pleasure inside of her that coursed through her nerves all the way down to her curling toes and the slender fingers gripping desperately at the roots of his hair. She forced her eyes open again and inhaled deeply to find some center of focus among the pressure and sensation plucking at her scattered, frenzied mind.

" _Porque en la trama de estos tejidos invisibles_ ," she breathed, moans of bliss weaving into the lilting syllables. His mouth slid down around her swollen clit again, his tongue rolling over the sensitive nerves as he rocked his fingers inside of her, and the searing, razor-sharp pleasures in tandem swept her like a current toward climax. " _Del agua desbocada, de la incesante arena_."

She gripped the book with white knuckles, shaking almost too hard to read the faded print. Her legs clenched and tensed over his shoulders as he sucked at her folds, tongue rolling firm strokes over her throbbing clit. "Shit, shit, ah!" she whimpered, and he muffled a laugh against her skin. She fought the overwhelming pulse of pleasure swelling through her, urged on by his fingers pumping into her and his mouth like flame and heaven on her sex, threatening to steal all coherency as she danced the line of orgasm. Her hand in his hair tightened into a fist, drawing a pained grunt out of him but he never relented the onslaught of blinding sensation. " _Sostenemos la única y acosada ternura._ "

A laughing gasp of relief followed quickly after her success, then a fierce cry when he yanked her closer, fingers edging into her hip. The sharp, pulling suction of his mouth around her aching clit and his fingers bucking thick and sweet inside of her tipped her finally over the edge, and she unraveled with a hoarse scream, hips grinding into his mouth to draw out the aftershocks of core-tightening release that washed all the tension and worry from her bones.

River went limp once the last lick of pleasure had finally faded from her raw nerves, and MacCready lifted slowly off of her, pausing to kiss the shivering curve of her hip. He shot her a satisfied grin. "Even better than I thought it'd sound." His lips brushed over a nipple, drawing another shudder out of her oversensitive body. "They always sound prettier when you say 'em, though."

She bit her lip when he pulled his shirt up over his head, swiping it over his mouth before tossing it aside. Her eyes traced the taut muscle that roped along his torso, a murmur of adoration in her throat. "God, it's like somebody made you just for me," she sighed lovingly.

He chuckled, nose skimming the line of her jaw as his hips settled between hers. The heavy tip of his cock brushed over her sex, pulling a hiss from behind her teeth. He caught her lips in a kiss and she tasted herself on his tongue, his teeth pulling at her bottom lip as he guided himself to the dip of her entrance. He ducked his head against hers when he pushed into her, agonizingly slowly, his lips brushing the edge of her mouth, murmuring her name again and again, a thousand promises hanging in the two whispered syllables: it was _River_ and it was also _thank you_ , and _I love you_ , and _you have me always_ , his own beautiful poem he crafted out of her name and she loved him more every time he said it.

River clung to his shoulders as he caught her throat between his teeth, hips rolling a deep, languid rhythm that dragged the weight of his cock over all the perfect points inside of her, pain and pleasure coming together in that most heavenly of harmonies. "Oh," she gasped, nails sliding over his shoulders. "Oh, _god_ , yes, baby."

His mouth latched onto hers, kissing her deeply, one hand winding into the wind-tangled white hair spilling around her shoulders. His tongue swept over hers, and she moaned, hips rolling as his cock filled her again, thick and heavy in all the best ways.

She murmured his name, smiling when he pressed a tender kiss to the edge of her mouth. He took her slowly, languidly, savoring the pulsing heat of her around him. She cradled his face in her hand, lips at the curve of his jaw as she whimpered at the apex of another deep thrust, curling her legs around him to lock them together. " _Te amo, cariño_ ," she panted, voice wrecked and rough with want. "I love you."

MacCready leaned into the palm of her hand, a low groan in his throat. "Always," he promised breathlessly, and sank into her again, muffling another strangled sound at the crook of her throat. "Love you." He bit down around the base of her neck, sucking a bruise there before laving kisses over the tender mark. His lips grazed her chin, her panting lips, the thin, rounded tip of her nose. They must have made love a thousand times now, and sometimes he still touched her like he couldn't believe he really had her in his arms.

The sun's warmth had long since faded from her skin, but the scorching curl of his body around her and the sweet burn of stretching around his thick cock coiled heat deep in the pit of her belly, a rising tide of pressure and sensation that sang like vibrant music over her raw nerves. "Shit, baby," she whined, rocking her hips to meet each rolling thrust. " _Oh_ , that's perfect, _yes right there, please god, baby, don't ever stop_."

The sound of her frenzied rant made him smile, and he buried a laugh against her collarbone, tongue lapping up the salt of sweat and the faintest whisper of summer breeze still clinging to her skin. He pressed his palm to the side of her jaw, thumb brushing along her bottom lip. "Tell me, angel," he coaxed her, lips parting around a groan when she sucked briefly at the pad of his thumb.

River threw her head back, every cant of his hips drawing another frayed moan from her throat. "Fuck, I . . . I love your mouth, and your hands, and your _cock -_ " Another deep thrust momentarily stole the words from her tongue, and she struggled to focus past the heat spiraling up her spine, blurring the last few coherent thoughts that held fast through the frenzy of pleasure. "Oh, _god_ , baby, you're so good."

MacCready closed his lips around a taut nipple and drew at the sensitive peak until she writhed and cried out beneath him, each measured pull setting off streaks of blinding ecstasy in the black behind her eyelids. He hissed when she clenched around him and scrabbled at his shoulders with sharp fingernails, begging mindlessly for something, anything, all she knew was his name, over and over, "RJ, _please_ , baby, I _need_ you."

He choked out a strangled moan, fingers tangling in her hair as he kissed her. A few calloused fingertips traced rough circles around her sensitive nipples, hunting lower over the tensing plane of her stomach to her slick sex, finding the swollen bead of her clit. He slung her knees over his shoulders and rolled back onto his heels, teeth biting back a smirk as she squirmed under his knowing touch.

"Not - fair," she bit out between clenched teeth, shaking her head frantically back and forth.

"You wanted to do something for me," he reminded her, voice rich with amusement. His hips pulled out and thrust back into her, rougher now, responding to the desperate way she kept pulling him closer. She felt the brush of his beard over her cheek, and then his mouth at her jaw, lips and teeth and the husky drawl of his voice close to her ear. "So _come for me_."

River could deny him nothing. His voice at her ear and his cock driving into her again and again sent her careening into orgasm, clinging to him desperately for some sort of anchor as the world throbbed and pulsed with pleasure around her. She felt his teeth at her throat and the hum of a loud groan there as he thrust frantically and came inside of her. Her fingers stroked soothingly through his hair while she coaxed him through it, his body jerking erratically against her until he finally fell still.

He kissed her tenderly in the wake of their frenzied lovemaking, hands gentle as he cradled her face. The hammering of her pulse eventually evened out and she managed to catch her breath between loving, affectionate kisses, soft with gratitude. Tangled together in the safety of their makeshift home, she could almost forget about their worries and troubles, the momentous and the insignificant, the dread and fears that kept her up at night.

She read the poem again for him later, once he was sated enough to keep his hands to himself, though the rich, Spanish syllables in the smoke of her voice still sent shivers of heat down his spine. The foreign language was like some secret, decadent, old-world luxury, ancient and alive within her like so many others. He wanted her to speak it to him every day, to teach it to their sons so they could have some part of that better world in them, too. Some hope of turning out like she did.

He would never understand the original words entirely, or the way they linked together into meaning, but when River read them aloud, he heard all he needed to hear.

 _Thank you_ and _I love you_ and _you have me always_.


	10. Idle Hands

River hurried down the Castle hall toward her quarters, glancing at the screen of her Pip-Boy for the fiftieth time. There were never enough hours in the day for everything she needed to accomplish, and taking even this quick break to change into something a little warmer meant putting some potentially vital task off for another day.

She slipped past one of the heavy wooden doors and closed it swiftly behind her with a weary sigh. She turned and nearly walked into MacCready, his features shifting from surprise to a familiar, masculine hunger as he curled an arm around her waist. He smiled knowingly, dipping his head to brush his lips over the base of her throat. "Busy day?"

"Always. I barely have time to change."

"I can help." His mouth lifted to claim hers roughly, possessively, parting her lips with an impatient flick of his tongue as he drew her back toward the bed and sank down onto its edge, trapping her between his knees. She felt his hands sliding up under her skirt, and in a few swift seconds he was tugging her panties dismissively down her thighs, moving his mouth to nip at the curve of her throat when she gasped out a surprised laugh.

"RJ." River hummed in regret, running her fingers lovingly through his hair. "I have far too much to do today."

"You say that. . ." he rumbled amusedly, shifting her shirt out of the way so his lips could trace over her hipbones, pressing kisses along the line of her skirt.

"And I _mean_ it." But _Jesus lord_ , his hand skimming up her thigh certainly made a compelling argument, so much promise hanging behind that simple touch. His affection hardly came as a surprise anymore, but sometimes, randomly, so that she could never be sure when the whim might strike him next, he wanted her how he wanted her. Period, end of sentence. He was only slightly bigger and yet much, much stronger than her, skilled and precise with those deft, certain hands that gripped and pulled and tugged, pinned her up against a bookshelf with her throat between his teeth, or bent her over the workbench in the garage, dress rucked up over her ass, fingernails digging ridges into her hips. The memories and twinges of phantom pleasure dizzied her thoughts as he tossed her Pip-Boy aside and made quick work of her blouse, sliding it over her arms before dragging the skirt down her hips. "I'm never getting dressed again, am I?"

"Not if I get my way." MacCready grinned, and god, she was so tempted to _let_ him, in spite of all the scouting reports and aid requests and thousands of other problems that required her attention. The General title always sat heavy on her shoulders, and he knew that only too well, knew how stifled and trapped she felt under that weight when it became too much to bear. He slipped her boots and socks off and tossed them aside, turning her around to unfasten her bra.

River shouldn't have let him undress her, and she certainly shouldn't have been leaning so readily into his touch, but his mouth tracing down the vertebrae of her spine and the prospect of being mercilessly fucked proved too tempting to resist. _God, I'm the worst General ever._ He gathered her hands up at the small of her back, shifting her slender wrists into one hand as his tongue lapped teasingly at her skin. She was just savoring that first thrill of relinquishing control to his hold when the sound of clicking metal broke the silence, her eyes widening at the cold steel of handcuffs closing in around her wrists. "RJ -"

"Mm-hmm," he replied calmly, trailing his teeth up to the contours of her swallowing throat. His hand brushed the small of her back in a brief, soft moment of clarity, a question in the drag of his fingertips down her spine. When she nodded her head, lip caught between her teeth and wrists flexing within the cool steel of the cuffs, he took the chain between them in his hand and tugged her back onto his lap. His pants were rough beneath her bare skin as she settled on top of him, thighs spread wide to accommodate his legs. He steadied her with a firm grasp on her hip, squeezing the curve of flesh there beneath his hand, tracing a hipbone beneath his fingertips while she adjusted to the vulnerable arch of her positioning. "You look good like this," he informed her, voice rich and warm with desire.

"Don't I look good always?" she breathed out, still coherent enough to tease.

"You know you do. Somethin' about seeing you all naked and helpless like this, though. Hmmn. . ." He trailed off, teeth edging into the line of her shoulder, and the abrupt, delicious pain forced a gasp into her lungs. Coarse fingertips traced up the slope of her thigh, drifting higher toward wet heat. "You like it, too, huh?"

River bit back another needy, desperate noise and tried for a cool shrug, her shoulders stiff and awkward in her positioning. "It's all right."

He laughed, and the sound of it sang through her like music, knotting heat and tension between her restless, shifting thighs. "Y'know, for a lawyer, you're a pretty crummy liar."

She whined, as indignantly as she could manage with her wrists cuffed behind her back like a criminal; and implications about her career choice aside, she was a _fantastic_ liar - just very, very distracted. "Extenuating - _ah!_ \- circumstances," she bit out between her teeth, warmth blossoming over her skin from the heat of his mouth at her throat. The muscles in her legs protested with a gentle burn from spreading around his thighs, the precarious angle forcing her to lean back into him. He balanced her by the hips, hands lingering to stroke down her thighs, and she squirmed above him, worrying her lip between her teeth.

His hand found the glistening arousal between her thighs and traced two fingers over soft folds soaked slick with want. He cursed under his breath, and she felt his breath whisper warm over her throat. "So wet already," he rumbled in approval and nipped at the shell of her ear. "You must need me pretty bad."

"More than anything," she answered, her voice unfurling in a frenzied, clumsy rush. The cuffs bit into her wrists, body arching like a bow, strung taut with tension. She caught a sob in her throat, where it burned and ached and threatened to break free. " _God_ , baby, I'm dying for you."

Fingers knotted in her hair and angled her head back, exposing the slender column of her neck to his teeth and lips. The blunt edge of pain and his soothing tongue in turn sent shivers of star-bright heat licking down her spine, leaping from vertebra to vertebra. She rolled her hips back instinctively against him, and his teeth bit down hard, drawing a whimper out of her.

"Always so fuckin' impatient," he noted with amusement, licking at the mark he'd left on her neck. She shuddered through the sensation, a breath fraying behind her teeth when his fingers stroked at her again, drawing thick and rough over her slit, parting slick folds and searing the bud of her clit beneath. "Be _good_."

A dark, steely authority rang heavy in his voice, threat and promise all at once, and it fit him so well she found herself trembling through a delicious thrill of submissive delight. She whimpered at the tightening of his fist in her hair, a slow, hot pain that sprouted at her scalp and spread down her shoulders like a meteor shower, bursts of stinging prickles under her skin. "Promise," she gasped, voice tilted high and breathless as he edged her back and forth between pain and anticipation.

He huffed a laugh below her ear, kissing along the soft skin there. "That's better," he approved, the rasp of lust tugging his voice deeper into that rich, heated timbre she loved; and it should've felt silly when she was a couple hundred years his senior, but she _ached_ to please him, deep in the marrow of her bones, and his praise etched threads of heat and pleasure over the raw, frayed canvas of her nerves. He withdrew his fingers from her hair and hooked his arm around the bend of her elbows, locking them together, and hanging so suspended and helpless before him left her dizzy with desire.

" _Baby_ ," she pleaded, licking at her dry lips and keening high in her throat. "Please."

MacCready hummed against her skin and pulled his hand away, leaving her neglected and empty, hunting up her heaving chest to tease a nipple between nimble fingers. "Damn, I love it when you beg."

River stuttered out a laugh, the sound breaking off into a hiss when he plucked at the taut peak with a cruel twist of his fingers, a brief shock of pain swiftly soothed over by fond, sucking kisses at the nape of her neck. _Jesus, when did he get so good at this?_ Need fizzled at the pit of her belly, pressing impatience into her twitching fingers, and she couldn't stop the whimpers bubbling loose from her throat, pained little moans shaped vaguely around his name.

He rumbled his own pleased noises back at the sound of it. "Poor little River," he muttered into the curve of her neck, amusement rounding the tenor of his voice. His hand drifted down her stomach, fingers returning to her clit, and the languid, unhurried circles he made there sent waves of sharp pleasure winding through her clenching core. "So worked up and impatient, begging to be fucked."

"Oh, _god_ , oh, god, RJ, _please_ ," she ranted, groping blindly behind her until she found the stiff length of his arousal, hard and throbbing in his pants.

He sucked in a breath at her sudden touch, a growl rolling somewhere deep in his chest, and the arm around her waist yanked her back flush against him, trapping her rebellious arms. "And always such fuckin' trouble. . ."

River huffed, writhing uselessly under his hold. "How are you so _patient_?"

His laughter was low and strained against her skin as he pressed a kiss to the curve of her jaw. "I'm not," he promised, and bucked his hips up into her, the ridge of his erection pressing hard into her bare sex, and she thrashed at the dull, blunt sensation after wanting and not having for so long - likely not that long at all, but the time felt stretched to hours suspended as she was over his lap, each second somehow torturously longer than the last. "But you're worse."

That was certainly true - there was no sense denying it when she was squirming and begging, on the verge of _sobbing_ for more of him, but she was tempted to do so anyways, remembering the hint of threat that hung heavy behind his words earlier, the thrilling, unspoken _or else_ that piqued her insatiable curiosity. She let her head fall back against his shoulder and sighed as his fingers pushed slowly into her, deep enough for her to feel the stretch but not nearly what she craved - fuck, what she _needed_ at this point. " _RJ_ -" she growled crossly, before he wiggled his fingers a little deeper and the rest of the words failed to form, gathered loosely in a cursory attempt at anything coherent and scattered by that blissful glimpse of pleasure.

"I know," he agreed, and the smugness to his tone webbed frustration and a devastating arousal behind her ribcage, straining each breath she drew into her lungs. Every fiber of her being sang for him, starving and sensitive, aching with a hunger so fierce it bordered on pain. His cheeky, teasing touches weren't hardly enough to slake this thirst he'd tempered in her, not when she knew how well he could satisfy it; he'd fucked her hoarse before, thrown her down and taken her until she saw stars and her knees gave out, and the fact that he was dangling that nirvana before her, just out of reach, was edging her toward madness.

"Fucking _Christ_ , RJ," she whined and struggled under his arm, tears burning at her eyes as he rubbed his thumb feather-light over her throbbing clit. "You're killin' me."

"Aren't you the one always going on about patience?"

"Not today. I-I can't." She shook her head frantically, chest heaving with desperate sobs. "God, I _can't_. I need you, baby, _please_."

MacCready grinned, one brow cocked in an arrogant arch. "Giving in already? I'm disappointed."

" _Son of a_ \- ah!" Her cry melted into a moan of relief when he finally pushed his fingers in deeper, and _oh_ _yes_ they always filled her just right. "Fuck, fuck," she panted, head falling back at the first crook of his fingers. Her hips shook under his other hand as she nearly doubled over, eyes screwing shut against the sharp waves of pleasure radiating out from where his fingers filled her.

"You were saying?" MacCready asked smugly, his laughter parched and husky with want.

She found herself smiling, a rush of affection swelling and melding with the pleasure rending through her. "I love you," she chirped gratefully, and her neck was starting to ache bent back against his shoulder, but her head felt too heavy to lift, and fuck, she _wanted_ that vulnerability, wanted to give him everything she had to offer, even if it left her shattered and broken. " _God_ , I love you."

"Oh, I know, angel," he promised her, and started moving his fingers at a slow, languid pace, driving them deep and dragging back out, working sweet, torturous pressure over her tender nerves. She felt him trailing kisses down the sweat-flushed curve of her neck. "Tell me how much."

"Nnfh," she choked out, teeth biting into a swollen lip, before swallowing and gathering the last traces of coherent thought that remained in her lust-frenzied mind. "Like you wouldn't believe. Like - like - oh _fuck_ , RJ . . . I love you _utterly_ -" The last word twisted into a moan, voice curling low and rough around the broken syllables. Her hands had gone numb pressed so tightly between their bodies, but his fingers tracing precision strokes over her aching clit forced her focus. "I-I love you always. Forever. Always." The promise started to fall apart behind her teeth, melting into desperate sobs as she rocked her hips down onto his fingers. Eventually she was left panting that last word like a mantra, "Always, always, always," holding the vowels long and soft until they were more melody than meaning, the rhythmic, lilting cadence her voice fell into when she was nearing climax. It wouldn't take long, not after so much teasing - she could feel it even now, heat and pressure arcing through her like lightning from his touch.

"River," MacCready murmured breathlessly, never relenting the swift, rough strum of his fingers over her throbbing nub. His voice around her name stoked the scorching flame of arousal and pleasure building like a wave, and then he rumbled approvingly near her ear, growling out a gruff, "Come for me," and she shattered under the force of her release. Her body went rigid, muscles roping tight as she tensed through the waves of greedy, blinding pleasure, heaving for breath in gasping moans.

She'd barely fallen still before he was rolling her onto the bed. The nerves in her arms prickled back to life as she stretched out on her stomach, rubbing her cheek against the rough sheets - jarring, sharp sensations after the dull, pulsing fade of her climax.

The bed dipped under his weight, and she shuddered at the drag of his hands up her back, kneading firm circles into sore muscle, brushing her hair aside so his mouth could find her shoulders and leave teething kisses along the sensitive skin there. A hand curved under her leg, urging her up onto her knees, and she muffled a moan into the sheets when he nudged her thighs apart. His hands admired her waist, the curves of her ass, hunting up between her thighs to the flushed, slick heat of her sex, and just the light stroke of two fingers down the sensitive flesh had her shivering beneath him.

River's eyes fluttered closed, a soft whimper catching in her throat, cuffed wrists drifting down the curve of her back, and she'd never felt so vulnerable or utterly exposed - but with MacCready's hands on her, it was comforting, liberating, something that made sense, new and fragile and precious when all the rest of the world had turned to ruin.

His lips brushed her thigh, startling her into jerking away, and he pulled her back again with a few chiding clicks against his teeth.

"Just _fuck me_ already," she snapped, with all the venom she could muster with her face pressed into the mattress and her ass wriggling helplessly in the air.

"Believe me, I'd love to." Hunger and strain scraped at his voice, fraying smug, boyish amusement into something lower, rougher, a husky timbre she could feel deep in her bones. He steadied her squirming hips with his hands, then sprawled out on his stomach to suck a bruise into the soft flesh of her thigh, and she bit her lip against the moan building in her throat. "But I could spend all fuckin' day making you come first."

"Oh, no." She shook her head, eyes drifting closed as his mouth trailed higher up her leg. "Baby, you'll _kill_ me."

"That so?" Jesus, she could _hear_ the smirk in his voice, and it still made her knees just as weak as the first time she'd heard it, and realized abruptly that MacCready was an arrogant bastard, and she _loved_ that about him.

"Robert Joseph MacCready, if you put that mouth on me, I _swear_ I - I - _oh, fuck_ , I. . ." The first draw of his tongue along wet, parting flesh stole the end of her threat before she could voice it. Her body rolled into a tight arc, chasing and evading the blinding sensation all at once, his mouth too warm, too heavy, too much, and yet so _precisely_ what she needed at the same time. When he felt her seize up against him, his mouth gentled on her, tongue easing off as his hands kneaded soothingly at her thighs.

River had the thought to laugh at how unerringly well he knew her body, but the sound got lost somewhere between intent and execution; whatever garbled sigh she strangled out instead seemed to please him nonetheless. She gasped at the sudden rush of cool air when he pulled away, and then he flipped her easily onto her back, bare shoulders already filling the space between her thighs as she struggled to adjust. She barely caught a glimpse of his smug expression before his mouth was on her again, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded in the brief moment they met hers.

Every curling pass of his tongue made her twitch and squirm at the resulting lash of pleasure that scraped through her. His mouth on her was relentless, lips pulling taut, sharp suction and tongue dancing circles around the oversensitive bead of her clit.

She cried his name and thrashed, feet tangling in the sheets, restless from the thick, heavy ecstasy clutching at her every nerve. Her fingers twitched where they were trapped beneath her with the urge to twine through his hair, and she gripped the sheets for purchase instead, shaking her head frantically from side to side. "RJ, _please_!"

MacCready pinned her leg back at the knee, the fingers of his other hand sliding up under his mouth, searching and finding and pushing into pulsing, wet heat. "I'm gonna see you come again first," he told her roughly, crooking his fingers deep, and she sobbed at the waves of sweet bliss that unraveled within her like spools of golden silk. "Then maybe I'll fuck you. Haven't decided yet."

"Cheeky _bastard_ ," she panted, and the low husk of his laughter coaxed a needy whimper from deep in her throat, high-pitched and desperate, sapping all the bite from her anger.

"Keep talkin', beautiful. I got all night." With a smug, searing glance up at the flushed scowl on her face, he ducked his head and dragged the heat of his mouth down her sex, lips and tongue and beard and the distant, fleeting press of blunt teeth, there and gone again. His fingers pressed and curled within her, kneading at nerves that triggered seismic shivers down the length of her body.

Eventually MacCready was forced to throw an arm over her hips to keep her from writhing out of his hold, still pumping his fingers in a merciless rhythm, generous with his tongue until she started floating toward release, then so horridly neglectful she sobbed and cursed at him as the waves of pleasure quickly receded, leaving her cold and empty in their wake.

When he edged her again with sniper precision, this time so close her muscles had started to seize up in anticipation, River twisted the sheets in her fists and unleashed a frustrated wail, kicking out at him.

MacCready straightened with a shock of laughter, catching her legs by the ankles and pinning them to the bed. He leaned down over her hip to kiss her, tangling a hand in the mess of her hair and tugging until she released the moan he wanted. His hips ground reflexively against the curve of her ass, cock hard and heavy beneath the rough scratch of his underwear, betraying the impatience he was somehow keeping under such tight control. She felt the fingers of his free hand trailing down her forearms to her wrists, tracing where the metal cuffs sat snug around her skin in a brief, tender moment of concern. When she rolled her hips fitfully back against him, he braced his forehead against her arm with a breathless laugh.

"Guess I'm wastin' my time worrying about you." He nipped hard at her shoulder, startling a soft groan out of her as his hand cupped the curve of her jaw. "What do you need, beautiful?"

"RJ," she protested, and squirmed indignantly beneath him. " _Please_."

He slung her knees higher over his arm, drawing a stiff, pink nipple into his mouth and pressing the hard weight of his cock between her thighs, a teasing, momentary pressure, gone all too quickly. "I'm listening."

River lifted damp, bright eyes at him from over her shoulder, teeth edging down into her swollen bottom lip before she found her voice among the dense, heavy fog of need, pressing in around her. "Need you, _mi vida_ ," she confessed, letting out a hoarse whimper when his cock twitched against her thigh in response. "Please, _please_ fuck me, I can't wait any longer."

MacCready groaned, shifting his weight behind her while she caught her breath, and then she felt the head of his cock pressing thick between her thighs, parting the raw, swollen folds of her sex and pushing in, stretching and filling and finally, _finally_ thrusting home. After a few breathless seconds of adjustment, he bucked into her again, arms curling around her waist to pull her deeper, his teeth sinking into her shoulder and anchoring her in place.

She gave a cry of relief, her voice breaking apart when he drove in to the hilt, holding her thigh aside in his hand as if she weighed nothing at all. Her fingers clutched numb and clumsy at the bed sheets behind her, scrambling for some center of balance among the dizzying haze of pleasure. He hooked his elbow under her knee, reaching up to wrap his hand around the column of her throat.

The first labored breath she dragged in dimmed the frenzied rush of her thoughts, like soothing dark storm clouds, curling in at the edge of her consciousness. She felt his mouth sliding up the curve of her ribs, arms cradling her close as he thrust deep, and she _ached_ to touch him, fill her hands with the rigid muscle tensing in his shoulders and the thick mess of his hair.

"Wanted you all fucking day," MacCready told her gruffly, sucking a stinging kiss into the curve of one of her breasts, and smiling at the moan it drew out of her. " _Fuck_ , that's nice." He groaned out a guttural laugh when she twitched and pulsed around him, whimpering at the sound of his voice. His hand slowly eased from around her throat, shifting to cradle the back of her head, and through the tears gathered along her lashes, she could just make out the satisfied shape to his smirk. "I know you like that, beautiful, but I want to hear you scream."

 _You'll have to work for it_ , she wanted to respond, but she'd barely formed the thought before a rough push of his hips already teased the scream loose from behind her teeth.

He chuckled triumphantly, pressing one last kiss to the edge of her panting mouth before rolling her slowly onto her back. Her breath hitched when he yanked her closer, shrugging her legs into the bend of his elbows. She let out a sob of relief as the life pulsed back into her numb fingers, had only moments to savor the sensation before he dragged the swollen head of his cock down her slit and swept the thoughts from her mind. After that there was nothing but the breathtaking, weightless bliss of stretching around him, her hips quivering in his hands as he sank into her again.

MacCready muffled a groan against her shoulder, his breath spilling ragged over her skin. " _Christ_ , I could fuck you all day."

" _Baby_." She threw her head back and gasped for breath, white hair clinging to her sweat-damp temples.

"Tell me, River," MacCready urged her, biting down at the base of her throat. "Want to hear you."

"You just feel so good," she babbled with an incredulous laugh. "I-I can't - it's - fuck, it's too _good_."

His hips bucked roughly against hers, thrusting deep and holding there as he dragged messy kisses down her jaw. Between his cock, his hands, and the cuffs around her wrists, she felt wholly and delightfully _pinned_. "Keep going, beautiful."

River nearly growled in frustration, though the pleasure coursing through her softened the sound to a hoarse purr. " _Fuck_ , baby, that's so deep." Tears of bliss welled and stained warm, wet paths down her cheeks. "Love this, love you, love that perfect, _perfect_ cock."

MacCready rumbled in satisfaction against her skin, curling an arm around her thigh to find the slick folds of her sex. His fingertips dragged circles over her clit, and the sharp lick of sensation wrenched another frantic cry from her throat.

"Oh, _god_ , RJ!" She found one of his knees beneath her hands and squeezed tightly, body twisting into a tense curve as his fingers worked her deftly toward climax.

"Close?" he panted into the crook of her throat, and she nodded hysterically, clinging to the taste of his name on her tongue like a lifeline. His hand slowed its determined rhythm, easing her back from the edge of release, and she choked out a desperate sob. "Beg me for it," he ordered, stroking a fingertip hard over her sensitive clit.

River shuddered at the steel in his voice, helpless to the ardent devotion that burned in the blue of his gaze. A moan hummed in her throat when he rolled his hips, shifting his cock within the scorching grasp of her sex and setting off ripples of ecstasy that seared at every part of her. " _RJ_ ," she sighed, and his breath caught at the rough sound of his name. "Please, baby, I need you! I can't - _fuck, fuck_ , baby, I can't take it, _please_!"

His fingertips traced determined shapes over her clit, hips pumping mercilessly into her, and every drag of his cock out and back in fed the tension pulsing raw and heavy in the pit of her gut.

She begged him in a frenzied rant, "Please, make me come. Please, _please_ , RJ, I _need_ you," and a breathless smile tugged at the end of his lips before he kissed her, his tongue pushing into her mouth just as the fingers at her clit and his cock thrusting deep sent her over the edge. With a broken sob, she came undone beneath him, eyes screwing shut into blinding darkness, the tension unraveling into heat and rapture that radiated from the weight of his cock, thick and snug within her.

River seized up and let loose a wild scream that shattered the quiet calm within the Castle's walls, piercing through the soft tones of Radio Freedom that piped out from the nearest speaker. MacCready took her throat between his teeth to muffle his own cries as she squeezed tight around him, laughter warming the sound against her skin.

"Fuck, that never gets old," he confessed with a harsh chuckle, hips slowing to a languid, loving pace as she fought for breath. "S'all I can think about sometimes. Like you're stuck in my fuckin' head." His mouth found her other nipple and sucked at the tender peak, tongue lashing out over the sensitive nerves and making her shudder in his arms. "Then I just want to fuck you 'til my legs give out."

A wounded moan caught in her throat, pulse still hammering in her ears in the wake of her orgasm. His answering chuckle was knowing and arrogant all at once, that infuriating, maddeningly appealing combination he wore so well. _You'd like that, wouldn't you?_ that laughter teased, and _oh_ , she would, she absolutely would; she'd spend the next week bent over backwards like this if he'd just keep _fucking_ her -

MacCready pulled away, and she whimpered at the loss until he flipped her back onto her knees. The sheets bunched awkwardly beneath her cheek as he grabbed her by the hips and drove into her again. She shuddered after each savage thrust, first one, then another, then one more before her knees gave out beneath her. His body pressed in around her, hips slamming tight against hers, and his teeth biting down onto her shoulder from behind drew another loud cry from her lungs.

He gathered a fistful of her hair, angling her head back so his mouth could continue up the column of her neck. "Ready for me, beautiful?"

" _Yes_ ," she gasped, pressing back against him with all the strength she could summon in her quivering thighs. "Fuck, _please_ , let me feel you."

His fist tightened in her hair, and he bit down hard enough to bruise as he drove roughly into her and came, his anguished moans trembling against her skin. River whimpered at his last few lingering thrusts and the rush of warmth when he filled her, blunt teeth replaced by the tender press of his lips over her bruised flesh.

MacCready planted lazy, sated kisses down the curve of her neck, cock still hard and buried deep inside of her. His mouth was borderline reverent on her after such forceful handling, murmuring her name and smiling at the shiver it sent down her spine. When he found the strength to move, he pulled away and ran a soothing hand down the curve of her back. "Don't move, angel. Let me get you out of those."

" _Don't move_ , he says," River mumbled into the sheets, and slurred out a laugh. "Like I _could_."

He gathered a few things and returned quickly to free her from her restraints. She leaned heavily on him when she sat up, wiping tears from the fringe of her lashes. He kissed her flushed cheek and cradled her wrists carefully in his hands, brushing his thumbs lightly over bruises the cuffs had left behind. "Hurt you?"

"Hardly," she breathed, her voice reduced to whispers.

He smiled like he didn't believe her, sliding a stimpak into her arm. She sipped at a can of purified water as the medicine entered her system, dulling the deeper aches and bruises into softer pains as she relaxed against him. Her hand curled around the base of his neck, his pulse racing beneath her fingertips, and he dipped his head to kiss the heel of her palm. The comforting warmth of his hand at her back and his even breathing beside her calmed the anxious chattering that always haunted the back of her thoughts, fucked-out and soothed away by his touch.

"There goes the rest of my day," she murmured, lips curving into a fond smile at the smug, enamored look on his face.

"Oops." MacCready laughed, unrepentant. "Didn't have any plans, did you?"

"Only a thousand important things." She kissed the edge of his smirk. "But a lady has her priorities."

Blue eyes crinkled at the edges with amusement, heavy-lidded and satisfied as he shot her a lazy grin. "You just like it when I throw you down and fuck you."

River smiled. "Priorities, _mi vida_. Priorities."


End file.
